Ties that Bind
by Lalaith Quetzalli
Summary: -AU to Nightingale.- They were inexperienced and insecure and when they were found they ran, to another country, another family, new lives. Years later, everything's changed, they're older, wiser, stronger; and if found out, this time they won't run, this time they will fight, they will stand together, with magic and deductions. (Rework of Avengers) (Can be Stand Alone, read notes)
1. Flight

I don't own anything of the MCU, or the Sherlock BBC series, yadda, yadda... This story is done just for entertainment purposes (mine, and hopefully yours).

There's a tiny bit of dialogue from 'The Blind Banker' in this one, thanks to Ariane DeVere for that. There are also referrences to events from other episodes in the first two seasons, especially 'A Study in Pink', 'The Great Game' and 'The Reichenbach Fall'. While I also make referrence to some things said in 'The Empty Hearse', the third season won't have any relevance here, though a few characters from that season do make an appearance... you'll see. Also, the Earldon and a couple other details I actually take from things I know of the original ACD Sherlock holmes novels (though, to be perfectly honest, I haven't actually read them).

For those reading this fic as a STAND ALONE. You need to know at least the basics of the MCU (I'll still try to explain what's truly important), and know about the BBC Sherlock series. Aside from that, you don't need to actually have read anything else in the Nightingale series as long as you know this: Silbhé Arianna is a girl who meets Loki in her garden when she's eleven, when he teleports there without noticing her (he travels to Midgard every so often in secret). They become friends, and she's clever enough to realize who he is before he says it. She's a genius, well-versed in History, European Mythology, Literature and languages. Loki saves her life from cancer (leukemia) at 14 with help of magic. In some of the AUs it's been stated that if Asgard had discovered her existence at some point before they actually did it wouldn't have been good. In this one she's found at 16, and it goes from there.

So, that's all that matters from now. Though I have mroe to say in the end notes.

Enjoy!

Ties That Bind

(Alternative Universe to _Nightingale_ )

 _By: Lalaith Quetzalli_

 _They were inexperienced and insecure and when they were found they ran, to another country, another family, new lives. Years later, everything's changed, they're older, wiser, stronger; and if found out, this time they won't run, this time they will fight, they will stand together, with magic and deductions._

 **Flight**

We were threatened, afraid, but unwilling to surrender or separate, and so we ran.

It was the middle of the night. Some might argue it was actually close to dawn by then, but I'd gone to sleep late, after hours celebrating my recent graduation (with three associate degrees) in the way Aunt Kathryn and I preferred: which meant slices of my favorite chocolate cake and glasses of iced tea. I was excited to celebrate with dearest friend Luka (whom no one but I knew was, in fact, the Norse god Loki). We had such great plans for the upcoming Summer: Spain, France, Greece… They all went up in smoke in an instant.

At first I wasn't sure what exactly it was that woke me, and then I saw him, my best friend, standing beside my window, the last slivers of moonlight making his alabaster skin look even paler and giving his emerald eyes an almost eerie glow. It was the look in those eyes, the almost tangible defeat, that made me wake up completely and sit up in an instant.

"Maverick?" I asked quietly as I got on my feet, half-absently pulling on my robe. "Is everything alright?" It wasn't, and I knew that, yet I didn't know how to ask the right questions.

"They know about you…" He murmured quietly, almost too low for me to hear.

A part of me wanted to ask what 'they' he was talking about, exactly, but the other part knew exactly who he was talking about, and what that meant… it wasn't good.

"How soon?" I asked, voice hoarse with the fear that was creeping inside already.

"Soon, no more than three days, maybe even less." He answered, he sounded so broken.

That wasn't right, and I knew it. It's not like it was his fault, not at all. I was the one who wanted to befriend him, the one who researched his name, who kept asking all the questions, who could not let him go. If anyone was to blame for what was coming, it was me…

"You're wrong." I hadn't even realized I had said anything out-loud… and maybe I didn't, and he just knew, it certainly wouldn't be the first time. "If I had been thinking clearly I would have stayed away after that first time. I knew nothing would could come of it…"

"But something did, there's nothing wrong about our friendship." I insisted.

"Only that you'll be made to suffer for that very reason." He retorted. "And regardless of how much I might want for things to be different… there's nothing I can do. You're my best friend Nightingale, my only friend, and I cannot protect you. What kind of friend does that make me?!"

"It's not your fault." I assured him, placing a hand on his cheek. "It's not your duty to protect me, Maverick. And whatever might come, I will never regret our friendship."

"No, you won't." Bitterness filled his voice. "You just won't remember it, won't remember anything about me at all."

For a moment I knew not what to say, and then, an insane idea popped into my head.

"What if they couldn't find me?" I blurted out. "If they couldn't find us?"

"What…?" He obviously wasn't expecting that.

"They're coming for me, for my memories." I qualified. "What will happen if I'm not here when they come? Would they hurt Aunt Kathryn?"

"I doubt it, she doesn't know anything incriminating…" He broke off as he apparently realized what I meant exactly with that line of questioning. "Are you sure, Nightingale? If you do this… you will never be able to come back."

"But I will still have my memories and… I would like to think, I will still have you."

"Always." He assured me immediately. "I'll never leave you my Nightingale, never."

It was the first time he referred to me as his… I liked it.

We were gone the next morning. Or it would be more precise to say I was gone. Aunt Kathryn had left that morning after breakfast, she was attending a medical conference in Canada for a few days. I was supposed to leave for Europe just the day before she would be returning. It wasn't hard to convince her I was starting my trip early, wasn't like there was a reason to stay in the manor, alone. So I changed my plane ticket and by the afternoon was on my way to London.

We spent the whole summer traveling across the continent, sometimes by train, others by ship, always making sure not to call attention onto ourselves. Near the end of August we knew we needed to stop, we couldn't keep moving around the world the rest of our lives, it just wasn't plausible. And then something unexpected happened.

We were in the south of Italy at the time, had rented a small cottage near the sea. I was wearing a lilac semi-transparent tunic over my off-white two piece swimsuit, my feet bare as I enjoyed the feeling of the sand beneath. Loki, for his part was wearing a black swimsuit with green detailing and a loose green t-shirt; he'd changed himself to look like he was seventeen or eighteen (during the first weeks we'd noticed people would look oddly at us when he was in his true form, probably because I looked younger than I actually was, and with us so obviously not family… well, it wasn't hard to imagine what some people might think).

We'd been having fun all morning, and when the sun became too much Maverick had conjured a beautiful floppy straw hat with an off-white ribbon. Then he went to buy us some cold drinks (you couldn't conjure food). I was standing by the foot of a cliff (or, more like the rocks at the foot of said cliff) when I heard yelling in a mix of English and Italian, followed by the evident sounds of a physical fight. It wasn't good. Unable to help my curiosity, I climbed several of the rocks, I was light enough to be able to balance on them and managed to get high enough to see what was going on, on the other side. A tall, gangly, young man, probably in his late teens, with a mop of short black hair (the exact same shade as Maverick's riot of curls), in loose navy blue shorts and a half-open gray button up was trying to fight an older man, late twenties to early thirties in black shorts and a white polo. The key-word in all that was trying, as the teenager was too slight and obviously knew nothing about fighting, he also wasn't wearing any shoes, which gave him yet another disadvantage.

I was considering the best way to help when I saw my best friend approaching (from the other side of the cliff), accompanied by two more men in black shorts and white polo shirts. It was at that point that I realized they were policemen, or whatever passed by such in that Italian beach. At first I thought they would help the poor teen, who was already pretty bruised by that point. Though it was only after a moment that I realized that of course they would help one of their own, I knew there was something very wrong going on.

"Cuff him." The first officer snapped in Italian at the two newcomers. "Take the brat away. Stupid brat, thinking he can come steal on my beach…"

"Bastard!" The boy snarled at him in Italian. "You're the thief. Dirty cop, I know it was you."

I thought back on some of the yelling I'd heard. The boy had been calling the older man a thief, and he sounded quite confident and… and the officer had said something about no one ever believing a brat… I knew then I had to do something.

"The jewels are hidden in a knitted bag in between those rocks." The boy insisted, trying to convince the other officers. "I saw him put it there!"

"That's what you say." The oldest officer stated. "And what proof is there of any of it? You know where they are? You could very easily have been the one to put them there and now are trying to blame someone else. Cowardly brat that you are."

"Liar!" The teen hissed.

"It's your word against mine." The policeman reminded him. "Arrest him!"

I knew I had to do something, words were coming out of my mouth before I realized it.

"Pardon me gentlemen." I called in Italian, though being careful to take an English accent. "Shouldn't you look at all the evidence before doing any arrests?"

"Who are you miss?/Where did you come from?" The two younger officers asked in unison.

"This is none of your business, missy." The older officer said dismissively. "You shouldn't get involved in things you don't understand."

"Why?" I challenged him, his attitude making me angry. "Because then the good officers might realize who the true criminal is around here? And I am not 'missy', my name is Arianna Kinross, daughter of Aislinn Caoimhe Kinross, daughter of Alasdair Stewart Kinross, Lord Brechin and Navar, last descendant of the Duke of Ross."

The list of names and titles were enough to make everyone hesitate. I knew it was insane, and by the way my Maverick's eyes widened, he knew it too. But I just had to help the teen somehow.

"Now, this young man was making serious accusations." I went on, taking advantage of the shock that was keeping all three officers silent. "Instead of just trying to shut him up with insults and fists, why don't you all try listening to him? You might even learn something."

The young man in question was looking at me oddly, like he was trying to dissect me, or look through me or something. Like he couldn't understand why I was speaking up for him; like my actions didn't fit some idea he had of people, maybe even of the world, and that confused him. Still, he took my words for the invitation they were and began talking before anyone could stop him. What followed was an explanation like none I'd ever heard before. He described every detail of the crime committed (robbery of a collection of apparently highly priced jewels, which belonged to some old noble lady with an estate nearby, and stabbing of the security guard), explaining how the older officer had done it, why, and how exactly he'd managed. He finished his narrative repeating where the jewels were, before adding something else:

"If you look at the sand around the rocks, you'll see that the only recent footprints were made by booted feet, size 43." He stated in a no-nonsense tone. "I'm sure everyone can see that nor do I have any footwear, nor is that my size. However, if we look at the officer…"

The sarcasm was loud and clear to everyone present. I actually expected the man to deny it again. Instead, he did the one thing I never expected, he pulled out a knife and threw himself at the young teenager. I screamed a warning, even knowing they would never be able to react in time.

And yet someone else had noticed, and had acted in time: my Maverick.

"Luke!" I screamed in horror, practically slipping down the rocks as I tried to reach him, my hat blowing off my head at some point, though I neither noticed nor cared.

I reached him about the same time the two officers finally took down the older man. I didn't care about him. Fully focused on my best friend. I was about to go into full blown panic (he was bleeding too much) when the teenager dropped to his knees on his other side, using his own shirt to put pressure on the wound and stop the bleeding as best as he could.

"Thank you…" I murmured in a watery tone, not quite noticing that I was speaking in English.

"Thank you." He said in return in the same language. "No one other than my brother had ever spoken up for me."

"It was the right thing to do." I assured him, before belatedly remembering my manners. "Like you probably already know, I'm Arianna, pleasure to meet you."

I didn't offer him a hand, there was no point when both of his were missing (and I was keeping mine busy by running one through my Maverick's hair, and keeping the other on his chest, a reminder that he was still breathing… I'd been so scared), still, I bowed my head respectfully at him (and how could I not respect him after what he'd done and was still doing?).

"My name is Sherlock Holmes." Was his simple reply.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for the ambulance to arrive. We were taken directly to the hospital and I was just making plans on how to handle things. We were supposed to be 'in hiding', and while I doubted Odin and anyone else in Asgard knew enough of Earth to be able to track us down if I took money from my bank accounts, I'd kept from doing it for the whole summer, using money I'd taken before leaving America, though that probably wouldn't be enough. I was then interrupted by the unexpected arrival of a woman (probably in her late forties or something) announcing she would be paying. At first I wasn't sure if I should feel grateful or affronted, and then she gave me her name: Lady Marise Violet Holmes, née Vernet; she was a minor French noble, wife of a retired British Earl, and the most important part, the mother of the young man my Maverick had saved: William Sherlock Scott Holmes.

 **xXx**

"You were bluffing."

Apparently my Maverick and I had so intrigued young Sherlock Holmes that he insisted on sticking around until my best friend was discharged (and with the doctors keeping such a close eye on him, and us unable to leave without calling way too much attention on us, he was left to heal at a human pace).

We'd learnt that Sherlock Holmes was seventeen years old, a genius in every possible way (except where it came to sentiment), the second son of the Earl of Crome (who'd mostly retired years earlier) and with an older brother (Mycroft, age 24) already working at Whitehall. He claimed to be a 'high-functioning sociopath', yet both Loki and I could see that he felt, a lot, he just didn't know how to express it. Also, his absolute bluntness and awful lack of tact when sharing his 'knowledge' made it so most people couldn't stand him. We didn't mind much, except for the part where he saw straight through our facades (both my Maverick and I were still much too nervous about the possibility of Asgard finding us to take any such thing lying down).

"All that thing about the barony and being a Lady…" He elaborated. "It was a lie."

"Not quite." I told him. "My maternal grandfather was, indeed, Lord Brechin and Navar, and the only descendant of the last Duke of Ross. However, my mother could never claim her own title. She might have, had she married someone with the 'right' titles, so-to-speak. But instead she chose to marry an architect from a house that lost its own titles over a century ago. Her younger sister never got it either, so Alasdair Kinross was, effectively, the last Lord in the Kinross family. Still, it was enough to make the officers take notice, and since that was all I intended…"

"Thank you." Sherlock murmured, not for the first time. "To both of you."

I waved my hand dismissively, having already told him time and again that there was no need to keep thanking us. He was such a fragile soul, Sherlock, I couldn't begin to imagine what he might have gone through already. It was obvious that he'd trouble connecting to people; the way he clung to both of us, to our acceptance. It made me want to cry even as I couldn't help but want to hold onto him just as tightly. I knew what it was like, to feel like you just don't fit. It hadn't been easy, getting to university at fourteen, especially having been to no actual school before then. And then if one added the fact that I'd been studying for three degrees at the same time, and had managed to finish all of them in record time and top marks… I'd never really had any friends in Norwich University, but at least I'd had Luka… Loki… it looked like Sherlock had never had anyone before. Even his brother, their difference in age was just too great for Mycroft to be there all the time.

A part of me really wanted to stay close. To help Sherlock, be there for him, like Loki had been there for me… but I had no idea how such a thing could be possible. My Maverick and I were pretty much on the run, and while we knew we couldn't keep running forever, I still had no idea how exactly we were expected to do that, and stay safe.

In the end the decision was taken out of our hands. It really wasn't that much of a surprise when Sherlock realized the two of us were 'in hiding' so-to-speak. He could have never deduced the whole truth, of course; though that was probably because he didn't know Norse gods existed. When the questions came I decided to trust my instincts and we told Sherlock the whole truth. We hadn't quite expected his reaction (beyond the shock that turned into denial, then confusion, the intrigue and eventually acceptance). Two weeks later my Maverick and I had a new family and a new home. And life moved on…

 **xXx 3** **rd** **Person POV xXx**

Much changed in the years following the first meeting between William Sherlock Scott Holmes, Silbhé Arianna Kinross Salani and Luka Serrure Hvedrungr (who was, in fact, the Norse god of lies and mischief, Loki… and that was one thing the consulting detective probably would never be able to get over). Nearly thirteen years (more like twelve and a half…) had passed since that day and Sherlock could say that his life probably wasn't what he'd envisioned before that August, before meeting those two, but he had no doubt that it was much, much better.

John Watson… he was the newest piece in the puzzle that was the consulting detective's life and, if the Holmes was honest with himself, the former army captain intrigued him like nothing had since a certain pair had appeared that day on an Italian beach. The man was just such a contradiction. With the discipline and the strength of a soldier, yet also the serenity and the nerves of a practiced surgeon, and a level of kindness and patience that would probably rival a saint's. As hopeful as Sherlock might have (reluctantly) been when the blonde agreed to the flat-share, the detective didn't truly believe the arrangement would last for long. No one beyond his family had ever been able to stand him for more than a handful of days at a time.

Sherlock made sure he was close enough to see John's reaction when he first opened the fridge to find all the body parts that were stashed there (without making it obvious). He'd seen the shock in the doctor's face, followed by dismay, a tiny bit of horror, anger and then… then the man had taken a deep breath, shook his head with an almost rueful sigh and asked Sherlock if there was no milk. And that was it. No yelling, no wailing, no demands that he take out those body parts or cries about the younger man being a psychopath or something… No, in fact, all that had come of that, aside from John's complaining about lack of milk (which would happen every so often, especially when Sherlock used it for an experiment and did not warn John beforehand), all the former soldier really did about the matter was to ask his flatmate to keep all body parts and other experiments in the lower shelves of the fridge to make sure they wouldn't mix with the food, preferably in labeled containers. Sherlock was so absolutely ecstatic about the unexpected acceptance (though he carefully hid his glee behind a well practiced façade of stoicism) that he agreed easily enough to the compromise (it wasn't like he hadn't done such things in the past, he'd just stopped doing it when he got used to living alone).

It'd been almost a month to the day since their first meeting (in the basement lab at Bart's, of all places!) and Sherlock was beginning to feel hopeful that their little arrangement might be more permanent. He'd even been entertaining the idea of introducing John to his family… granted, the doctor already knew Mycroft, but that hadn't been under the best circumstances (the two of them never got along in public), and it's not like Mycroft was his only family…

The only hesitance had come a few days earlier, as they started the most recent case. Sherlock had been so eager as he introduced John as his friend to that idiot Sebastian Wilkes… only for John to correct him, calling himself a colleague. The detective spent the next several days half-focused on the case, half arguing with himself, wondering if he'd truly been so wrong at reading John, had he seen a tighter connection between them than there actually was? And then, that very day, just as they were about to enter the bank to report to Wilkes the resolution of the case, John had pulled him to a side for a moment, and said the last thing Sherlock could have ever expected:

"I'm sorry." The ex-soldier muttered gruffly.

"What…?" The detective honestly didn't know how to reply to that. "John…"

"About what I said before, to Wilkes…" The blonde scratched the back of his neck in what seemed like a self-conscious gesture. "Look… I swear I didn't mean anything by it, nothing negative I mean. I just…" He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself. "I may not have gone to the kind of schools the two of you obviously did, but I know bigotry when I see it. And… well, even if you weren't a genius I'm sure you can see the truth about me. You and I are so different Sherlock… and I don't mean just in the intellect. You come from a world of privilege and me… I barely have enough to pay my half of the rent and buy groceries, and I'm broken in more ways than just the physical. Much as you might have helped me, and still be helping me by allowing me to tag along… Ta for that, by the way." He shook his head. "I just didn't want to hear what Wilkes might have to say, if he thought you were friends with me. It was never about me, I promise. I do consider you a friend, my best friend even. But it didn't seem fair for you to have to endure the kind of bullshit Wilkes was sure to spew about that…"

"John…" Sherlock was absolutely stunned. "John, you seem to be under a misapprehension."

"Wha… if you don't actually consider me a friend…" The doctor seemed confused, and hurt.

"Not about that, I said you're my friend and I'm not taking that back. Now pay attention!" the detective snapped, probably more forcefully than entirely necessary. "It's true I come from privilege, I won't deny that. And so does Sebastian… but if you ever think I would ever choose him over you… well, that might just because you don't know Sebastian. He's a pompous git, and the worst kind of bastard, or, like someone once said 'cac ar oineach'…"

"Ca…" John didn't even try to pronounce the phrase. "What does that mean?"

"Literally? Shit on honor." Sherlock deadpanned. "According to Ari it's also how the Irish say 'scumbag'."

"Quite appropriate." John nodded, he wondered who Ari was exactly, but pushed that question aside for later as the beginnings of a smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth.

"Quite. Now, Sebastian is in no way my friend. We shared a dorm for a time, back in university, and there might have been a time when I… fancied there might one day be something. But that was just stupid, some people might tell you I did a lot of stupid things back then…" He shook his head. "In any case, you should pay no attention to whatever ignorance comes from Sebastian's mouth. We're here to take his money, and nothing else."

John nodded, not for the first time wondering if Sherlock had only taken Wilkes's case for the money he was offering. It could be no coincidence that John had mentioned his own lack of and the need to find a job that might contribute to his income (he was still working on that, and after what had (almost) happened to Sarah, he wasn't sure how that was going to work out).

The two split up once they were inside the bank, with John going to see Wilkes about the second half of the payment, while Sherlock approached Amanda with the news about the jade hairpin she was, even in that moment, wearing.

Thankfully it didn't take long for Wilkes to be satisfied with the report about the case and sign the check (though he still didn't seem to fully believe what John had told him about the Chinese circus and Sherlock climbing balconies). John was glad, he could hardly stand the scumbag (and he was really going to have to get Sherlock to teach him how to pronounce that phrase). He was just taking the envelope with the check when both he and Wilkes could hear a high-pitched feminine screech coming from outside the office:

"Nine million!"

John guessed Sherlock had just delivered the news. Amanda was probably ecstatic (and she wouldn't be the only one as, in the end, she would share the money with John and Sherlock a sort-of 'finder's fee', as a way to express her gratitude for their help). John couldn't help but smile as he left Wilkes's office and went looking for his friend. He was just about to reach him, when something totally unexpected happened: a 4ft. tall human-shaped missile dashed past several of the bankers and secretaries moving around before impacting straight against the consulting detective, who reacted automatically, taking hold of it.

Said missile, as it turned out, was a child, a little girl, not even ten years old (John would eventually learn she was a few weeks shy of her eighth birthday), with loose waves of mahogany hair that fell to her shoulders in a forest green long-sleeved dress and tights.

Then, as if the arrival of the girl, and the way she was holding onto the consulting detective weren't enough of a shock, the words that came out of her mouth, cinched it:

"Uncle Sher!" She cried out in absolute delight.

John froze, and he wasn't the only one, that girl had just called Sherlock uncle?!

"Rosie?!" A soft, female voice. "Rose, sweetheart?"

"Over here Ari," Sherlock called calmly. "The little nymph found me."

"I imagined she had." The female voice called, approaching.

John finally got a good look at her as she rounded the corner. Petite, barely above five feet in height, slim frame, light pink skin, hazel eyes and thick auburn curls to the middle of her back, she was wearing a brown long-sleeved top with pink and green triangles and a long light-washed denim-skirt with tanned-boots and a tanned-leather jacket. She was small, and looked so young…

"Mama!" The girl cried out at the young woman. "I found Uncle Sher!"

"I can see that, dear one." The woman nodded, in a slight Irish accent, before turning to the consulting detective. "I hope we're not interrupting anything, Sherlock?"

"Not at all, my business here is concluded." The detective stated. "There's someone I would like both you and Rosie to meet…"

John imagined Sherlock meant him; however, before he could get the chance to approach them, Sebastian was stepping out of his office, annoyed.

"What is all that racket?" He demanded angrily. "Don't you people have jobs to do? This is a bank, not a daycare and…"

"And a single child does not make a daycare, unless you're now hearing voices." The petite woman, Ari, interrupted in a chilling tone. "Maybe you're too tired to be working Sebastian… or perhaps it's the old age, and the old abuses that have finally caught up with you…?"

She stared straight at Sebastian Wilked, and while she was more than half a foot shorter than he was, there was something about her, her posture, her stance, that made it seem like she was the one looking down at the banker, and not the other way around.

"Who are you, girl?" Sebastian demanded, hotly.

"You haven't changed at all, have you Wilkes?" She asked, arching a brow. "Except, I think your memory might be worse than it was eight years ago. Have you really forgotten me so soon?"

John, and everyone else, noticed the moment his eyes came alight in recognition:

"Arianna Holmes." He addressed her. "I don't believe you have any business being in this bank."

"Not really, I like my bankers being a bit more… honest." She smiled in an almost predatory way. "You understand, I'm sure. The only reason I'm here is because… well, we happened to be in the neighborhood, Rose saw Sherlock and she wanted to say hello to her favorite uncle. We haven't seen each other since the holidays."

"If Mycroft hears you say that, he'll take offense." Sherlock pointed out.

"I like Uncle Myc too." The little one said with an enthusiastic nod. "He's really nice to me, gives me cookies and takes me to see the birds at the park!"

John couldn't, for the life of him, imagine Mycroft Holmes taking a hyperactive, bright little girl to the park… then again, he could have never imagined Sherlock Holmes carrying that same child in his arms, her hands around his neck, yet that was exactly what was happening in that moment. And the girl's mother was a Holmes too?!

A bell sounded right then, it came from Arianna's handbag.

"That's the alarm." She announced.

"You have somewhere to be." Sherlock guessed, it wasn't a question.

"Serrure is expecting us for dinner." Arianna explained with a shrug. "He had a case earlier, and we agreed to meet at that Italian place…"

"Angelo's?" John blurted out before he even knew he was talking.

"Come eat with us Uncle Sher!" Rose said at the same time.

"Yes, that." Arianna nodded at John half-absently, before she truly looked at the blonde. "Arianna Kinross-Holmes, pleasure to meet you. You must be Dr. Watson, Sherlock mentioned he'd a flatmate when we last talked."

"John Watson, and the pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Holmes." The blonde assured her. "I'm afraid to say I don't know much of you at all, though I would love to learn more about Sherlock's family."

"Call me Arianna. It's alright to say you didn't even know I existed before today." She assured him. "Sherlock can be over-protective like that. He's very much like Serrure in that aspect, which probably shouldn't be surprising…" She chuckled lightly. "You both should really come have dinner with us. It would be a good opportunity to get to know each other."

"Sure," John agreed easily enough before turning to his friend. "Sherlock?"

"The case is finished." Was the detective's answer.

And from him that was as good as an acceptance. In the time he had of knowing him John had already learnt the consulting detective did not eat while working on a case, and he hardly slept. But the case had been solved, which meant he was ready to eat, and would probably be sleeping for 18 hours straight, at least.

Just like that, Sebastian Wilkes was forgotten. None of them paid him any attention as the group left the bank, catching a taxi to Angelo's, where a tall man with short ink-blank hair, emerald eyes, in a black suit with a crisp white-shirt unbuttoned at the top and no tie, a long ashen-gray coat on top was waiting. He looked so much like Sherlock, at first sight at least, John had to blink a few times.

"Just what is going on here?" The doctor asked, confused.

"Right." Sherlock smiled. "You've met Ari and Rose Alfdis, however, Ari's not my sister, nor is she Mycroft's wife…"

Arianna's shivered dramatically at the suggestion, which made both Sherlock and his lookalike chuckle at the same time.

"John, meet Serrure Holmes, Ari's husband, Rose's papa… and my twin brother."

 **xXx**

John learnt the 'public' version of the Holmes family story that night. How Serrure, back then going by Luke (his full name was actually Luka Serrure Kinross Holmes for, reasons). Sherlock himself, most people had still called him William back then, he'd only used his second name when working on a case; he'd fully adopted it when entering university after that summer.

John found it so interesting: the two friends hoping across Europe, trying to find a home, only to find it in the most unlikely of places. And then Mrs. Holmes had insisted on Luka being officially part of the family, and so Luka Serrure Hvedrungr had become Serrure Holmes. Arianna was introduced into the equation as Marise Holmes's goddaughter from Ireland who had gone to live with the family before attending university.

It was a good story, and it was real too, they just made sure to keep all mention of gods, Asgard and magic out of it. Arianna believed one day John would know, but he just wasn't ready, yet.

Meeting Serrure, Arianna and Rose also allowed John to see a different side of Mycroft Holmes; the man who slipped chocolate chip cookies to his niece and acted like it was some great secret (though the girl's parents obviously knew). He also learnt the truth about Anna Isobel Holmes, Mycroft's wife, who John had only known as the man's PA: Anthea.

John soon came to like every single member of the Holmes family. Serrure wasn't the same as Sherlock (and not only because they weren't really twins). Serrure was a solicitor, specializing in high-profile cases, also pretty ruthless (which probably was a requirement for anyone with the surname Holmes, by birth or adoption). At the same time he was very kind to his family and willing to accept anything and everything as long as there had been knowledge and consent. He also seemed to understand Sherlock in a way no one else (not even Mycroft) did. Arianna had specialized in International Relations while in university and had even worked as part-time Assistant Ambassador for several months while in her last year in the graduate program. She'd left all that after the birth of Rose and had later returned to help either as assistant or interpreter (she was certified in a dozen languages) when necessary; though for the most part she stayed at home. Rose of course was wonderful, probably the cutest child John had ever known.

John had heard stories, especially during the weekly dinners, about how they had all been during their late teens, the first years in Oxford. The 'twins' mentioned more than once how absolutely scary Arianna could be; and while the doctor had certainly seen her take down Wilkes, he just couldn't picture her like that, not until a certain day, in Baker Street…

Another case had just finished. It'd been a mix of private and public (a private client had actually been the one to hire the consulting detective, but New Scotland Yard had gotten involved eventually). John had ended completely drenched for one reason or another at some point and the younger man had suggested he go take a shower while Sherlock went to report the closing of the case to their client. John agreed.

He'd just stepped out of the shower when Arianna arrived with Rose. They were supposed to have dinner the day before, but with Sherlock in the climax of a case, he hadn't remembered it (which surprised no one at all), so they'd decided to go once it was all finished. John guessed Serrure must still be in the office or something. It was pretty normal for him to arrive directly to the restaurant. While the Kinross-Holmes family lived just a few blocks away, which allowed them to visit every so often.

"Uncle John!" Rose cried out in delight the moment she saw him, running for a hug.

John had tried to explain to her he wasn't her uncle, thinking it was just a child-thing, calling every adult she saw every so often 'uncle'. But she never called Angelo that, and she saw him often enough… he'd tried to talk to Arianna about it once, but she'd just smiled at him, a smile that held a thousand secrets and said, enigmatically:

"She knows family when she sees it." Like that explained anything at all!

That particular evening the two adults were drinking some tea while waiting for Sherlock to arrive (and probably shower too) before going to Angelo's when, rather unexpectedly, a bunch of people arrived, going straight for the living room.

"Mama!" Rose cried out running to the kitchen where they were.

Surprisingly enough (for anyone who did not know the girl, at least), she wasn't scared of all the unknown adults, not at all; no, she was angry.

"They're messing everything, mama." The child said accusingly to her mother. "Uncle Sher is not gonna like it."

"No, he won't." Arianna agreed, turning to look at John questioningly.

"It's not the first time they do this." John admitted with a resigned sigh.

"This?" Arianna's eyes narrowed.

"Drugs' bust." John clarified.

"Excuse me!" Her voice went higher, too high, enough to call the attention of at least a couple of people in the other room.

"Who are you?" The dark-skinned woman with black curls and dark eyes asked.

There was such an attitude to her, like she believed herself to be better than Arianna, than John… it rankled the hazel eyed woman. She hated that sort of people.

"Considering I'm a guest here, while you're nothing more than a trespasser, shouldn't you be the one introducing yourself first?" Arianna challenged.

"I am no trespasser, this is perfectly legal." The older woman replied, still not introducing herself.

"On whose authority?" Arianna insisted.

"On mine." A male voice called, approaching. "Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, New Scotland Yard. This is Sergeant Sally Donovan. This is a drugs' bust."

"So you say…" Arianna muttered, slowly getting on her feet.

John kept quiet. He'd been about to introduce Sally himself when Arianna first demanded to know who the woman was, but then Rose had climbed onto his lap, placing a small hand on his lips. Then she signaled to her mama. She wanted him to see something. It was obvious the girl somehow knew (or maybe she'd 'deduced'…) what was coming, and she didn't want John to interrupt, she just wanted him to see…

"Stop." Arianna ordered, in a perfectly even tone, and when that failed. "I said Stop Now."

Everyone did. No one so much as moved a muscle. Arianna hadn't yelled, yet somehow her voice had carried through to the living room just fine, and there was enough power behind it no one doubted on following her order in that moment.

"I want everything back in its proper place and every single one of you out of this flat in the next two minutes, have I made myself clear?" She stated, her tone perfectly calm, yet full of steel. "You better not have damaged anything."

"You have no right to demand that." A man, Anderson stated from the living room.

"You would think so, wouldn't you?" Arianna hissed quietly. "Yet, as it happens, the ones being in a place where they have no right to be, doing things they shouldn't be doing, are all of you!"

"Who are you?" Lestrade asked, confused.

"My name is Arianna Holmes." That was enough to throw everyone for a loop.

"The freak is married?!" Anderson and Donovan cried out in unison.

"Shut up!" The hazel-eyed shrieked, truly losing it, if only for a moment. "The next time I hear you calling Sherlock that awful word I will personally teach you to respect your betters. And I promise you, you won't like the way I conduct my lessons."

"Please." Anderson snorted. "You're just a girl."

"Just a girl?" Arianna smiled, it wasn't a nice smile. "Let me tell you who I am exactly, and it's not just 'a girl', I'm not 'just' anything. I am Arianna Kinross-Holmes. Sherlock is not my husband, he's my brother-in-law. I am married to his brother, Serrure."

Lestrade opened his mouth, probably to mention that Sherlock's only brother was Mycroft… it was what John himself had believed for a while.

"You probably know him better as Serrure Kinross, he's a solicitor." That shut everyone up.

Really, every single person in London probably knew who Serrure Kinross was. The man did not belong to any buffet, he worked alone; at the same time he'd had enough high-profile cases for his name to become well known. Some said he specialized in 'lost cases'; his most memorable one had been one where he'd defended a man convicted of murdering his own wife. His daughter insisted it hadn't been him, but she was so young no one believed her, no one except Serrure. He'd managed to prove that the crime had actually been committed by the woman's best-friend, who'd been obsessed with her since they were together in university. He'd killed her when she refused him one too many times, a crime on passion; then proceeded to frame her husband as his true vengeance. New Scotland Yard had refused to even contemplate the possibility of a mistake, even when Serrure pointed out the inconsistencies. So they'd all gone to trial, and the defendant had won, not only proving his client's innocence, but showing everyone who the true murderer was. It had been the worst kind of ridicule for SY.

"I see you know who I speak of." Arianna smirked. "I realize you probably didn't know he's a Holmes. Hardly anyone knows. It gets complicated, whenever they have to work together on a case, to have two Holmes. Or when he's at Whitehall for whatever the reason. So he chose to use my own name professionally."

"Your name?" Sally asked, probably still trying to wrap her head around the whole thing.

"Kinross." The auburn-haired explained. "I am actually Lady Navar, minor nobility from the House of Ross, the recognition of it made it necessary for me to keep my surname even after my marriage to Serrure."

It was true. Marise (Mrs. Holmes) had insisted, to keep consistency with what Arianna had said in Italy. She'd been considered a lady of minor nobility, until her marriage to a 'Scion of House Holmes', when she'd officially gained the title of Lady Navar. They were also informed that if a daughter of Siobhan Kinross (her mother's sister) married into a noble house, she would be able to claim the other half of the title (Lady Brechin), which was unlikely to happen; as far as Arianna knew both of her cousins were married already, though she'd never met their spouses.

"Anyway," The young woman shrugged. "The point remains. If you do as I instructed before we can put the matter to rest right now. Otherwise I will be forced to phone my husband."

"And what will you do then?" Donovan challenged.

"Charge you with breaking and entering, to start." Arianna retorted in the same tone.

"This is not breaking and entering, this is a drugs' bust, and perfectly legal." Donovan insisted.

"Show me proof then." Arianna demanded.

"What…?" Donovan obviously wasn't expecting that.

"A drugs' bust is, indeed, perfectly legal, under specific circumstances." Arianna elaborated. "In this case it would mean you having records of previous arrests of the owner of this flat, in this case Sherlock, with observations of possible relapse. It would also be necessary to prove that he's a danger, either to himself or others, or the drugs he's using are particularly dangerous, either to himself or others or, lacking that, object of some current investigation on your part." Her eyes were almost flashing as she finished her speech with the expected question. "Now, where is your proof to any of this?"

"You just made up all that!" Anderson practically whined.

"Did I?" Arianna asked testily. "Should I phone my husband and check." She turned to Lestrade. "Now, either show me your proof or get out of the flat this instant!"

"Us having no records doesn't mean the freak isn't a junkie, everyone knows!" Donovan hissed.

"Really? Like everyone knows you're a scarlet woman?" Arianna practically purred. "At least they're respectful enough not to say it. A courtesy you do not extend to my brother. Next time you use that insult against him, I really will slap you." She turned back to Lestrade, knowing he was the boss. "It's the same in the end, you have no proof, now get out of this flat or I really will file charges against all of you."

"We came to get whatever Sherlock might be keeping, related to the last case." Lestrade tried to explain. "He has the bad habit of keeping evidence from us."

"There are legal, polite ways of asking for things." Arianna stated coldly. "And while I know Sherlock tends to focus so much on the case itself he forgets protocols most of the time, that doesn't give you the right to invade his home whenever you feel like it. A home is a sanctuary, it's private; that's why it's a crime to invade it without invitation. And in any case, he was hired by a private citizen this time, so whatever he might have or not have, he doesn't owe you anything this time. Now Go!"

They finally did. Some of the muttering about the short woman who defended the consulting detective as if she were his own wife. They didn't understand how seriously Arianna took the matter of family, she would do anything for them, for every single member of them.

As the auburn-haired sat down again John couldn't help but notice her hands were shaking, just slightly, but it was still noticeable. Apparently she hadn't been as impassive as she'd appeared when doing verbal battle with Lestrade and the others.

"I think we need some more tea." He announced out-loud, as he got on his feet, carefully placing Rose on her mother's lap.

Arianna's reaction was automatic, her arms going around the child's form, embracing her. And Rose too seemed to know exactly what to do to help her mama calm down, letting her bury her face in the mahogany hair, while murmuring things in a different language in the older woman's ear. It was truly a touching moment.

So John prepared some more tea, and poured two cups. Seemingly satisfied that her mama would be alright, Rose went back to the living room and her drawings, leaving the two adults again alone in the kitchen. Silence lasted for a while, until the tea was almost fully gone. So much was going through John's mind but he didn't dare say a word. It was Arianna who spoke first:

"You have questions." It was a statement.

"You said Sherlock's not a junkie, and while I just cannot imagine him as one, the first time I was here for a drugs' bust, when I tried to deny it, well… he didn't." John couldn't find the right words to explain himself, but he'd a feeling the woman understood anyway.

"I said they had no proof, no records of prior arrests or anything of the like… I never actually said he'd never consumed drugs." Arianna clarified quietly.

"Should I ask, or should we forget I ever heard that?" John inquired bluntly.

Truth was, he was curious, but he also respected and appreciated Sherlock enough that he would back down if that was what was best. He wasn't about to risk the best friend he'd had in many years over mere curiosity.

"Usually I would say he should tell you himself, but I think we both know he won't." Arianna admitted with a low sigh. "Not because he doesn't trust you, but because he probably doesn't see why circumstances can make a difference on the way people react. As far as he's concerned, he was a junkie, you know that, and still tolerate him, there's no need to bring the topic up again."

"You think differently." John guessed.

"It's entirely different to know your flatmate, your friend does cocaine whenever he can get his hands on some… and knowing he made a mistake almost nine years ago, and hasn't repeated it since. And never will." The hazel-eyed clarified.

"Quite different, yes." The doctor agreed. "Will you tell me?"

"I was twenty, while Serrure and Sherlock were 22, the summer when we married." She began her tale. "The three of us had arrived to Oxford together, they shared a room in a men's only dorm, while I had a room all to myself in a girl's only one. It was good, each of us attended different classes, but still found the time to have meals together, take a walk, meet in the library, even go to the cinema every so often. It all changed that summer. We married in June, as wedding-present Mycroft gave us an all-expenses-paid trip through Europe. So we were away for the rest of the summer, whole months. Then, September came… Being married, Serrure and I moved to different accommodations, a flat outside campus but still within walking distance. Sherlock stayed in the dorm, and got another dorm-mate, his name was Victor Trevor."

John had known all along it wouldn't be a good story, in that moment he knew, without a doubt, that he really, really wasn't going to like it.

"At first it was good." Arianna went on. "Victor was nice, if a little introverted. I think he'd been in love with Sherlock even before the two became roommates. I don't actually know how far they took it, only Serrure knows that, and Sherlock himself of course. It should have stayed all fine… but then Sebastian Wilkes came into the picture. You know, I'm sure, that he's a bastard."

"Sherlock told me you call him something in Gaelic, which translates as scumbag." John stated.

"Ca car oineach, yes." Arianna nodded. "He probably deserves worse, but still. At first he wasn't like that, or we didn't know at least. He was the one to convince Sherlock and Victor to go public. They went on one date. Serrure and I weren't here when it happened. Actually I'd been feeling sick and ended in the hospital for a few days. By the time we were back it'd all gone to hell already, there was nothing we could do."

"What happened?" John was already fearing the answer.

"Someone took pictures, and sent them to Victor's family. Turns out they were homophobes of the worst kind. They went straight to Oxford, yelled at their son and Victor was weak, instead of standing up for himself, and for Sherlock, made it seem like it'd all been Sherlock's fault."

"As if Sherlock had forced him." John realized in horror.

"Victor left that same day, but the damage was done. By the time we went to visit Sherlock had hid himself behind a wall of indifference. He refused to tell either me or Serrure what had happened. Claimed it was nothing more than an experiment gone wrong." She shook her head. "He should have been in a room by himself for the rest of the semester at least; and even back then Serrure and I were already making plans, trying to find a way to help him. Meanwhile, Wilkes somehow managed to convince the people at the offices to move him in with Sherlock; claiming he was a friend and wanted to be there to help."

"What did he do?"

"He was the one who got Sherlock into cocaine. I don't know how he did it, or even why exactly. My health wasn't the best at the time, and with Serrure always by my side, we weren't there for Sherlock as much as we should have been. I regret that now, though there's nothing I can do about it. By the time we learnt of things, it had all gone so wrong… Sherlock was in the hospital, having almost died of overdose."

"What?!" John couldn't believe that, didn't want to.

"I think… no, I know he blames himself for what happened with Victor… right, I didn't tell you. Victor committed suicide shortly after he left. There were rumors that it was Sherlock's fault…"

"But it wasn't! It couldn't have!"

"No, it couldn't have. But young people, especially immature, jealous young people, can be cruel. I think Sherlock heard the same thing being said so many times he began to believe it himself. Just like he came to believe he was a sociopath, after the kids in high-school told him one too many times he had no heart…"

"That's… that's…" John couldn't even find the right words to express himself.

"I know. We… I felt so guilty, when we saw him there, in the hospital. They almost found him too late. And even when he woke up, it was like he no longer cared. No matter what Mycroft said, or their parents, or even Serrure and I… nothing worked. He implied, more than once, that he would go back to the drugs the moment he left the hospital. He didn't care about his studies or even his life anymore. And then… It was my last card, the only thing I had left." She took a deep breath. "I told him I wouldn't allow drugs anywhere near my baby."

"You were pregnant."

"That's why I kept ending in the hospital. You see John, I had cancer when I was younger, it got pretty bad, I almost died; and I never fully recovered. I got pregnant near the end of the summer, it was a high risk pregnancy, more than one doctor recommended a termination, for my own safety. But I refused. Still, it wasn't easy." No, it hadn't been, and if it weren't for her match's energy, for their bonds, she probably wouldn't have made it, neither of them would have. "I don't know if you're aware of this, but Sherlock loves children, he simply adores them; their innocence and their absolute lack of prejudice. Children do not judge you, they do not see others as more, or less, not unless you teach them to. I knew, even before Rose was born, that he would adore her. So I used that, I used my own unborn child to push Sherlock into giving up the drugs."

John didn't even have to ask if it had worked, it was obvious enough.

"At the end of the semester we convinced Sherlock to leave the dorms, he moved in with us. We used the excuse that it was so there could be someone with me, when Serrure was away for work, as he'd begun his internship as a paralegal. In the end it was a good thing, really good. You see, Rose was born early, almost too early. When labor began I thought they were Braxton-Hicks contractions, I'd had them before. By the time I realized I was truly about to give birth I could hardly move anymore. I told Sherlock to call an ambulance, he made some calculations, decided an ambulance would take too long, then proceeded to pretty much carry me all the way to the hospital (several blocks away). I don't know what would have happened if he hadn't been there. It's why we named him Rose's godfather."

"Rose truly loves him."

"Yeah, she does."

That was the end of the conversation that day. Sherlock arrived not long afterwards, he took a shower and then they were all walking to Angelo's. And while no questions were ever asked about what had been said that afternoon, it wouldn't have surprised John if Sherlock had just known. In the end all he could do was not treat Sherlock any different. He had had rough times, had made mistakes, yes, but that was all in the past. Sherlock was a good man, John would never doubt that, no matter what anyone else did or said.

 **xXx Nightingale's POV xXx**

There was an enveloping warmth, and the scent of roses in full bloom… a second later I was waking up. For a second I couldn't help but remember the last time I'd woken in such a way, seconds before Serrure's mobile rang, Mycroft, to inform us Sherlock was on an ambulance en-route to the hospital, he'd just been found in his dorm, unconscious, ODed. I blinked, a light touch on my arm pulling me back to the present. Rose was standing beside my bed.

It was probably a good thing we didn't sleep naked. It was something my love and I'd done for a while, right after getting married. Well, he in fact had taken to sleeping naked (or almost) back in Asgard (their ideas of nudity much different than ours). However, when Rose became old enough for her own bed, and to move on her own, we realized the last thing we wanted was to risk Rose going looking for us only to find us naked.

"Mama, Uncle Sher and Uncle John need us." She said softly.

I turned to look at the mobile on my night-table, there were no missed-calls. I also half-absently noticed that it was barely past midnight.

"Wha… what's happened?" My Maverick asked, yawning a bit as he sat up.

"Mama, Papa, Uncle Sher and Uncle John need us." Rose insisted, her voice gaining a tone that showed she was about to go into a temper tantrum, which was completely unlike her.

"Are they in danger?" My love asked, fully waking up as he processed our daughter's words.

"The Troll is gone, but he's not yet stone, the Knight is angry but the Wizard might lose himself in the worry…" Rose mumbled.

Both of us stiffened at her words. We knew perfectly well what it meant when Rose began using metaphors and titles, and the different cadence in her voice, almost as if she were singing… those were the giveaways of prophecies, or Seers… We'd known for a while that our daughter was gifted in a way that very few individuals in the history of the Realms had been, like the elven prophetesses of Alfheim, or Lady Frigg in Asgard. Rose was a precog, had been since she was very young, but while most of the time that gift manifested in her simply knowing things (like she'd known her Uncle was inside the bank, or when exactly he was finished and we could go see him…), there were times when she saw things, either in dreams or visions; and that seemed to be one such occasion. She'd seen something, something bad.

It took no effort to realize Sherlock was meant to be the wizard, and John the knight; we had no idea who the troll was, but it couldn't be good, especially if he hadn't turned to stone (which meant he hadn't been defeated). We needed to find Sherlock and John.

Rose's words had left both of us so shaken that my Maverick didn't even think about it, as soon as all three of us were dressed he was teleporting us straight into 221B Baker Street. My match didn't even try to look ahead before he fully materialized, which probably explained why we were all taken so completely by surprise. Not just us either, Sherlock and John too… as we found them snogging on the living room couch.

Rose let out a wordless cry of delight as she ran to her 'uncles'. I couldn't help but myself. I could sense the bonds tying the consulting detective and the doctor together, and I was quite sure my love could see them. The two pulled apart instantly the moment they became aware of our presence, though they didn't actually get off the couch and after a few seconds with no rebuke or criticism John seemed to feel confident enough to take Sherlock's hand in his. I couldn't help but smile widely at it all (There had been times, after the drugs, Sebastian, Victor… when I'd feared Sherlock might never find his match; or worse, that he might hide so far behind the face of 'high-functioning sociopath' that they would miss each other; I was so happy to have been wrong!).

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock blurted, more self-conscious than truly annoyed.

"I didn't hear the door open, didn't hear any footsteps on the stairs for that matter." John said almost absently at the same time.

My Maverick and I turned to look at each other for a moment and then nodded; words weren't necessary, not even in the link that connected our minds, we were completely in agreement: the time had come.

In the next few minutes John and Sherlock explained what had happened in the last week, everything about the bips, the hostages, the explosives; and then the events of that same night, from the moment John decided to go for a walk to cool his temper, only to be abducted, and then the showdown in the pool. My husband and I had only known the very basics of the case that was going on, since Sherlock had explicitly asked us to stay away, for safety (neither of us had wanted one of us, or Rose, to end up as the next hostage). Still, I knew my love felt bad that he hadn't been there to help them, to help his brother, I felt the same.

I didn't like the feeling. It was the same thing I'd felt three years before, when Sherlock had decided to move out (even after we all graduated from Oxford he'd continued living with the three of us, we loved having him there). There had been a case, one of his first official ones with New Scotland Yard (he'd done some things, hired by private citizens, before that, but nothing properly official). A serial killer, of women, Sherlock had given all the information to the Yard and waited for them to arrest him; only to have him flee before they could cuff him, leading them on a wild chase through several neighborhoods which had ended when he opened fire in Regent's Park, there had been several wounded, mostly as people threw themselves and their families to the ground to keep them safe, though one mother had ended with a bullet in her arm and another with a graze to her hip.

I'd been in the park that day with Rose, it was part of our routine. We never knew for sure if there had been a reason for the murderer's actions, or if he just wanted to 'go out with a bang'. Still, Sherlock got it into his head that we had been the targets and it was all his fault. He'd moved out the next week. It was then that he'd built his sociopathic façade back up and stronger than ever before; in his mind, if he didn't have loved ones, they couldn't be targeted. He had been so affected by the shooting I'd agreed to keep our meetings private, to never go looking for him, or even approach him if I happened to see him nearby. Deep down I always hoped the day would come when he would change his mind, when he would meet someone who would be able to tear down his walls. And then John Watson arrived…

"You should have just shot the bloody bomb." My Maverick's gruff comment pulled me back to the present abruptly.

"That would have ended with both of us dead." John pointed out with a eerie calm, before adding. "If Sherlock would have listened to me and left when I told him to, I would have made sure there was nothing left."

"No!" The consulting detective snarled, holding onto John tightly enough he'd probably leave bruises on the smaller man.

"I wasn't talking about anyone dying." My love stated, very seriously, before they could keep misunderstanding his statement; he looked straight at his 'twin' as he added. "It would have protected him too."

"What…?" It looked like neither of the men in the sofa understood what my husband meant, though Sherlock at least had a vague idea.

"How could that be?" The consulting detective asked, very quietly.

"Because the two of you are bound together." I said instead. "You are a match."

Sherlock let out a breath rather sharply, shock threatening to overtake him. John just looked at him in confusion, obviously trying and failing to understand what we were talking about; and then Rose clarified it:

"Soulmates! She cried out in delight. "Uncle Sherlock and Uncle John are soulmates!"

John was the one left breathless at that. I imagined it couldn't be easy. Going from kissing the other man for the first time to learning they were meant to be together, if he even believed we were telling the truth. He'd spent month saying they were just friends… then again, Loki and I'd been just friends for years, until we were ready to give the next step.

"She's known all along, hasn't she?" My brother-in-law murmured, looking at his goddaughter.

I nodded. He obviously thought Rose had known from the moment she began calling the blonde: Uncle John, about three months before, and that was alright, he didn't need to know that she'd probably known long before that, possibly even from the very first time she'd met John, she'd just waited two months for the man to be ready for it.

"I still don't understand." John said seriously. "The things you're talking about, protection from explosions, bonds, soulmates? All those things are impossible."

"Not impossible, just improbable." The Holmes twins recited at the same time.

"Anything is possible when you have two of the greatest forces of the universe on your side, John." I added with a small smile.

"And what forces are those?" John's eyes narrowed.

"Love… and Magic."

 **xXx 3** **rd** **Person POV xXx**

For whatever the reason, it was easier to convince John that night of the truth of all of them, than it had been to convince Sherlock back in Italy all those years earlier. Arianna had a feeling he'd have even been willing to believe that Sherlock himself was a Norse god, that was how highly he held the consulting detective. By the next week Serrure had finishing weaving a very complex net of protective spells into John's watch, the same way he'd done with Sherlock's scarf shortly after they joined the Holmes family (there was a reason he never went anywhere without it). That way they knew that no matter where they might be, whether together or apart, the two of them would always be safe (or as safe as we could make them. Arianna still had my nightingale pendant, with even more protective spells, while Rose had a pretty little bracelet her big sister, Lady Hel, had sent her from Helheim and which her Papa had expanded on.

And so, life went on. Sherlock and John were together, though they only demonstrated it in the privacy of their flat, or while surrounded by those they trusted completely (like the family, Mrs. Hudson, or Angelo). He was still too afraid of putting those close to him in danger, but was relaxing ever so slowly. Which was probably the only reason why John even agreed with his plan; which had Sherlock continue acting as a sociopath most of the time, and John having a seemingly neverending string of girlfriends. Truth was he never did more than go for coffee or dinner with any of them; and when eventually they began growing clingy, wanting more, he would dump them. He wasn't being cruel, from the start he would always tell them he was just looking for someone to be with for a while, no-strings-attached, and they agreed; but either they grew attached at some point, or they just thought they could change him… Sometimes John didn't actually have to dump them; enough times of him running out on a 'date' or standing them up because of Sherlock and they would handle that all on their own (which actually made things easier for them all). John hoped one day they wouldn't need to hide anymore.

Some things had changed already though, particularly with NSY. Donovan rarely called Sherlock 'freak' anymore, and whenever she did, she would flinch and look around, almost like a part of her expected Arianna to step out of the nearest shadow to berate her again. Lestrade was authoritative when dealing with the consulting detective, but still more polite than he'd been in the past; asking for the pieces of evidence, and listening when Sherlock asked for something. Anderson simply chose to stay away. And there hadn't been any more drugs' busts since.

Arianna knew in every universe things happened a bit differently, every single decision made changed the course of history. She was a fierce believer in the theory of the multiverse (at least since she met Loki); she believed there must be a universe where Asgard didn't find out about her and she went on to doing her graduate studies in Norwich, where she didn't have to leave her aunt to nothing but a Polaroid taken in the garden of Salani manor in Wales before she and her Maverick officially went to ground, where she never met the Holmeses and probably never had to learn through an obituary in an American newspaper that her Aunt Kathryn was among the doctors lost to the Ebola outbreak in Africa, where she had a completely different life. She also believed it likely that in some other universe she ended in Asgard somehow; in some other the cancer did kill her when she was fourteen, and many other possibilities. The one thing she couldn't believe possible, in any universe, was for her to have never met her match, it was just unthinkable.

In any case, she wondered what might have happened to her beloved brother, Sherlock, and his John, in some other world where the young Holmes never met her and her beloved that sunny afternoon in an Italian beach. Did he go to Mycroft for help? Did he try to fight the spirits-forsaken troll (ever since Rose named him that, it's become habit for all of them to use the same word) on his own? Did he die…? She didn't know, and she never wanted to find out. She will never forget the day Rose went to her, carrying what looked like a page from a torn children's picture-book, with the letter written in thick crimson crayon all across the page. And then, the words that sealed it all:

"The Mother, the Knight and the Nymph… the Troll will make them fall if the Wizard does not."

For a couple of seconds Arianna was completely breathless, mind working a mile a minute as she tried to understand the meaning of what her daughter had just prophesized, and then it clicked in her mind, and she let out a wordless scream terrible enough her husband materialized in the room just a heartbeat later, armor on, knives in hand and ready to do battle.

"Nightingale!" He cried out in full alert.

It was a name he hadn't called her outside of their most private moments in years, out of hear of it being picked up by 'other-wordly ears' and used against them.

"We need to go to Sherlock, right now." His beloved wife told him, absolutely serious. "We need to get to him right now."

"Why?" For probably the first time ever, Loki did not understand.

"Because if we don't, he's going to die." She answered quietly.

She had no doubt about that. Sherlock would never allow anything to happen to Mrs. Hudson, John and Rose, no matter what the price might be. And there was always the chance that even all the spells in that scarf would not be enough…

Arianna and Serrure knew something was going on, something big, ever since the man called Jim Moriarty had orchestrated all those 'daylight crimes' nearly three months earlier. Serrure had been part of that case, working with the lead prosecutor, for a change (usually he worked on defense, rather than the other way around, but still). Sherlock and John had been there too, as the key witnesses against the man. Even all their efforts put together hadn't been enough, somehow Moriarty (the Troll) had gone free, and that was just the beginning.

"Lestrade phoned me a few minutes ago." The god-turned-solicitor stated quietly. "He warned me Sherlock would need a lawyer, and a very good one. NSY is beginning to consider him suspect of the recent crimes."

"But we all know Moriarty did that!" Arianna cried out in disbelief. "Or at least engineered it."

"Do we know it?" Serrure asked in turn. "I'm not doubting it, no. But we cannot confuse faith with evidence. Truth is, there is no concise proof of anything right now. Not even that James Moriarty even exists at all. Sherlock has tried to keep us away from what's going on, and it might just have turned against him, because now he was no alibi for a lot of the stuff going on, except John, and no jury will ever believe John Watson to be unbiased and objective. My… our brother has effectively put himself between a sharp rock and a very hard place."

"He was just trying to protect us…" Arianna murmured, dismayed.

"He was." Her husband agreed. "And now it's our turn."

She agreed whole-heartedly with that sentiment. The Troll would be finding out how huge a mistake he made, messing with the Maverick and his Nightingale…

 **xXx**

Two days later Arianna and Serrure woke to a tingling warmth, the smell of roses and their daughter's tiger-stone (orange-red-black) eyes (they looked chocolate brown most of the time, except when she was using her gifts). A moment later Serrure's mobile pinged, a single text:

 _Lazarus is a go._

It had started. The plan had been set in motion. The two parents slipped out of bed silently, a shower, clothes and breakfast, they would need to be ready, they all had their parts to play.

The call came almost an hour later. DI Lestrade refused to explain things over the phone, just asked them to meet him at St. Bart's. Once there they were informed, by both him and a doctor on guard, that Serrure's brother: Sherlock Holmes, had just committed suicide. The twin froze in shock, his wife dropping to a chair seemingly distressed, while the nine-year-old began shrieking her denial, calling for her uncle at the top of her lungs. Until john Watson appeared, his face pale, except for the redness around his eyes; he picked up Rose, holding her tightly against his chest, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, and the girl stopped screaming and began hiccupping into his neck, every so often calling John's name.

The rest of the day was an exercise in patience, and acting. As Arianna would switch between looking completely burdened with grief and berating anyone and everyone for ever believing that her dear brother was a fraud. Serrure quite calmly announced he would be personally looking into things, and whoever was responsible for pushing his brother to that point would pay, dearly. John for his part, didn't say a word, he just held tightly onto Rose, as if getting some kind of comfort from her, and the girl did the same (either looking for the same, or she knew she was helping just by being there).

Eventually night came, interrogations ended, and they were all free to go home. It hadn't been as bad as they'd feared. After the first time someone tried to pry John and Rose apart, and ended with a nine-year-old shrieking like a banshee, no one tried it again. Most people were so horribly uncomfortable with a little girl grieving like that, that they didn't approach the pair for the most part. Serrure too was intimidating enough that the authorities didn't keep him for more than absolutely necessary, and after Arianna let out a string of curses, switching languages every third word (which meant that no one understood more than half a dozen words in all) after Donovan dared suggest that it was all Sherlock's own fault, they tried to stay mostly clear from her too.

Sherlock had committed suicide, no one contested that. Lestrade notified Mycroft too, but he refused the chance to identify the body, leaving the task to John and Serrure; while Anna handled the preparations for the funeral. No one seemed surprised, those two Holmes had never seemed particularly close…

They ended at Serrure's place that evening. A car sent by Mycroft had taken all three members of the small family and John there; while Mycroft himself and Anna had arrived in another not long afterwards. They sat in the living room there, curtains closed, waiting for the final two guests to arrive, it wouldn't be long.

It wasn't a well-known fact, but a number of the houses on that block had once been a single townhouse. They actually all still belonged to the same family: the Holmes family. Serrure had taken one for himself, and they leased the others to a number of families as needed. And while the original house had been properly divided for the most part, there was a single exception: the basement. It remained a single basement, it was also connected to only two of the houses: Serrure's and one they kept empty and ready to be used as a safe-house (and with an entrance that faced the opposite street).

Less than half an hour after the rest of them had arrived the door leading into said basement opened, allowing the entrance to the two people missing in that meeting: Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes.

John reacted the moment he laid eyes on Sherlock, running straight to him, embracing him tightly and kissing him with enough intensity to make everyone look away. They broke away eventually, clasping their left hands together and there, at the base of their fourth fingers was a particular tattoo, only two other people had the same design: Nightingale and Loki.

It was the one things John had asked for two days earlier, after they had a plan for dealing with Moriarty and everything he'd already set in motion. He'd asked Sherlock to marry him. They both knew they couldn't do anything official, legal, because then Moriarty would know. But Sherlock remembered well enough the ceremony his brother and sister had used to marry (aside from the signing of the marriage license), he also remembered what both of them had told him, about magic and bonds. John had loved the idea when it was shared with him. And so the two men had stood in the living room of 221B and recited the Ancient Vows, with Arianna, Serrure and Rose as witnesses, before privately consummating the union later that night. The tattoo had been a little something extra John had proposed; they couldn't use rings for the same reason they couldn't marry legally, and a band like that would have been impractical for someone who did as many experiments as Sherlock did, so they'd chosen the tattoos instead.

"Thank you Molly." John whispered, going to hug the mortician next.

"I'm just glad I could be of help." The woman said shyly.

"You were invaluable." Sherlock assured her, a hand on her shoulder.

Molly couldn't help but blush brightly. She was one of the few who'd known John and Sherlock were together; it'd been obvious to her even before they'd said anything.

They were interrupted by Anna's approach, she pulled a manila envelope out of her suit-jacket, which she offered to Molly, who took it immediately.

"All arrangements have been made." She said simply.

The arrangements were extensive and quite careful: new identity and all the papers needed to make it legal, airplane tickets to Switzerland (she'd been given a choice), where she would begin a new life. Sherlock and John had promised to stay in touch, at least until she felt comfortable with her new life. Truth was it was simply too dangerous for Molly to stay, if anyone were to ever suspect what she'd done, not just with Sherlock's fake death, but she'd also been the one to receive Moriarty's body and confirm his death.

They knew the 'Troll' wasn't alone, it was why they were keeping his death a secret until they could handle his web. Molly's safety was a priority. While everyone else would be working on taking the criminal web down, Molly wasn't a soldier, or a fighter in any way. And she deserved to be able to live her life in peace… They'd made sure she'd have that.

"Thank you." Molly smiled shyly, hugging everyone one more time before taking her leave, her involvement had ended, and there was a car waiting to take her straight to the airport (all her things had been packed already).

"Everything went perfect today, but this is not the end." Mycroft stated seriously. "This is but the start. And we, none of us, will be able to rest until the last thread in this web has been burnt."

"Lets get started then." John declared, an almost predatory smile on his face. "The sooner we do this, the sooner I can go on my honeymoon."

The sly look he directed at Sherlock was telling, it made the consulting detective blush, which surprised many of them, Anna laughed, while Mycroft just looked uncomfortable (which was an added bonus, as far as most of those present were concerned.

"Lets go hunting." Serrure, Anthea and Arianna agreed.

And so the hunt began.

* * *

Several things I need to point out before someone complains: I don't really know if inherited titles and the peerage system really work as I describe it in here (My country has no such systems), but it was convenient, at least for this story.

I know things might seem confusing at times, I'll try to explain everything that's different in this particular reality, but if I miss something let me know and I'll see what I can do.

I cannot make promises on the updates on this one, since I'm still working on the second chapter, and it was only yesterday that I actually decided on the exact spin this story would take (I didn't want this to end up as just another variation of the New York Chitauri invasion, I've done enough of those, I think).

Any particular ideas or request are welcome, I just might listen to them (since I'm still working on this).

As always, full-sized poster and et of wallpapers can be found of DA (Princess-Lalaith), I'm particularly proud of how these ones turned out...

Please don't forget to comment!


	2. Stand

My apologies for having this come out later than usual, but I was busy most of the morning, and since I barely finished writing the chapter last night I needed to revise... it's quite possible some mistakes got through, my apologies for that.

Warning of sorts... in this verse the Moriarty-Hunt takes place in a lapse of six months, because I honestly believe that if Sherlock was capable of doing everything in two years (with some minor long-distance help from Mycroft) then him working with John, Serrure, Arianna, Mycroft and Anna should see that time reduced drastically, at least that's my belief.

The song that appears in this chapter is "Stand my Ground" by Within Temptation, it's not actually played with the instruments it is here... but yeah.

* * *

 **Stand**

We had found something to stand our ground for, and we wouldn't be giving it up.

 **xXx 3** **rd** **Person POV xXx**

The operation needed to deal with the threat of Moriarty (which went beyond the man, by a great deal) was huge and very carefully coordinated. There was Anna, former MI5; also as the Holmes discovered (to the shock of more than one), John was former MI6, which meant they had superior training, knew some of the best agents, and had a relatively easy time working with them.

Sherlock, legally declared dead in Britain, was mainly tasked with tracking down the highest ranking members of Moriarty's web on other countries, leading operatives to taking them down. Though there were a few occasions when he had to do things himself. He didn't like it, and John downright hated it; the idea that the whole situation (and, in a certain way, Moriarty) had turned Sherlock into a killer. Still, if the consulting detective could accept that the man he loved had killed in the war, John could do the same (and they were in a war, probably the most important war they would ever fight).

Mycroft and Anna couldn't involve themselves directly with things; they, Mycroft especially, were too public figures to do that. The most they did was, at one point when suspicions began to arise that Sherlock might be alive, after discussing it among themselves they decided to make their marriage public, as well as have Mycroft claim his birthright as an Earl. It changed very little where their jobs and everyday lives were concerned (except for everyone calling them by their titles), but the media made enough of a scandal over the whole thing that Sherlock was forgotten, at least for the time being.

Serrure took the public venue, getting involved with the investigation NSY was doing into all the cases Sherlock had been involved with, making sure nothing would be missed or conveniently ignored. He would be the one to push the authorities into clearing his brother's name… when the right moment came.

Arianna for her part went back to working full time as an assistant ambassador and interpreter, except that instead of working for any one embassy or office, she would go around as needed. Mycroft had arranged for her to have the highest clearance possible, which allowed her to get involved in matters not only in the UK, but in other countries too, which also gave Sherlock backup more than once (or even just someone familiar to meet with briefly, to make sure he wouldn't lose himself in the mission).

Rose was too young to do anything obvious, though there was one thing she did do. She'd just read her Uncle John's blog, his words about believing in Sherlock Holmes, and then she heard people talking about an article in the newspaper, about the 'fake genius', the fraud… her magic had gone out of control, just for a moment, and then, on the wall on the other side on the street were the words: _I Believe in Sherlock Holmes_ , as if someone had just painted them in big black letters. It was just the start, in a matter of days the Homeless Network had taken over, and soon those same words (or the initials IBiSH, when the full phrase did not fit) began appearing in alleys, fences and the like all over London. There were people who still believed in the consulting detective, and they always would.

Since the Holmeses couldn't act directly, John was the one tasked with handling the members of the web inside the UK (and some in foreign countries, when either Sherlock couldn't get to them, or it was a situation that fit John). It had been easy for John to resign from his job, stating that he was too grieved to focus properly. After a month pushing everyone away, by turns screaming at them or just simply ignoring them, everyone but the Holmes family had stopped looking him up. And then his true work began.

No one knew quite what to say or think when Mary Morstan first made an appearance. John met her in the graveyard of all places, he visited Sherlock's grave every week, to keep with the image of the grieving best friend. The blonde woman had crashed into him after having supposedly visited the grave of her dead younger sister. And while they had no reason to think anything bad about such a first meeting, what kind of woman invites a man out after that? While they were keeping Sherlock's and John's relationship under wraps for the time being, John had been told by more than a few people that the way he acted wasn't like a man mourning a flatmate or even a friend, but like someone mourning their spouse, their soulmate… The doctor had acted no different when Mary insisted on buying him a cup of tea (after their 'crash' cause him to drop the cup he was carrying); and still she'd asked him out afterwards. John was no consulting detective, but he knew there was something decidedly wrong about the whole thing, so he accepted.

It took only one walk in the park, at the same time Arianna and Rose were there, with the nine-year-old refusing to go anywhere near the blonde and going as far as practically screaming blue murder when she tried to hold her anyway, for everyone to know something was very, very wrong with Mary Morstan.

It was Serrure who found the answer. Mary Morstan did not exist, arguably she never had. She was the stillborn daughter of Charles and Evelyn Morstan, both of whom had passed away a few years earlier. The most interesting part was that her grave was the one 'Mary' visited. Still, it wasn't easy, not for any of them, to find information on who the woman might truly be; though one thing they were sure of, it was somehow connected with Sherlock Holmes (and, according to John, wasn't all?)

 **xXx Nightingale's POV xXx**

It all came to a head six months after what we'd all taken to calling 'The Fall'. An MI5 team lead by John had just burst into the basement of a gentleman's club; the owner claimed all he did was some card games, gambling, and expensive drinks and cigars, the truth was that they laundered money for other operations on Moriarty's old web as well as smuggle drugs. The leader, a man called Ronald Adair, fancied himself far more important than he actually was (hence why his operation had been left for last).

On the legal front, Sherlock had just been cleared of any and all crimes that same morning and there would be an article published the next day stating the truth about James Moriarty, his crime syndicate, and the part Sherlock Holmes had played in revealing the truth about the criminal master-mind (nothing about the Hunt, for obvious reasons). They were all part of the preparations for the consulting detective's return in a couple of days.

Sherlock was in Serbia in that moment, having gone after Moriarty's old second in command in the end. He'd let himself be taken prisoner, as it was the fastest way to get to where he needed to, to assassinate Sebastian Moran. Mycroft had infiltrated the same group too, and would be getting his brother out discreetly that same night (Anna would have done it, but women weren't exactly treated well in that group and Mycroft refused to send his wife to such a place, choosing to do things himself instead).

The last piece of the puzzle for us to deal with that night, was Charles Augustus Magnussen, the former media magnate. It was his PA, Janine Hawkins, who warned us about the man, I'd met her when he sent her personally to interview me regarding a hostage situation I'd been involved in, while in Sweden for a summit (truth was I'd been there to help coordinate Sherlock, John and a couple of MI6 agents but things had gotten a bit out of hand… hence the hostage situation); nothing too serious had happened, but more than a few people suspected a lot more had than what had been officially reported. Janine had tried a few trick questions in an attempt to make me trip, probably even contradict myself, but I was no amateur, I knew what to expect, and how to handle myself. Though no previous experience ever taught me what to do when the woman sent to make my life difficult ends asking me to save her… I don't think anyone could ever teach that.

Janine gave us everything she had, everything she knew, all she wanted was the guarantee that she would be able to walk away. It was easy to give it. She was the one who'd run with the story of Mycroft's and Anna's marriage, and his claiming his earldom (as a way to pacify her boss when she failed to get anything about Sweden). Then it was just a matter of waiting for the right time to strike.

In the end Magnussen was arrested over more than a dozen cases of libel, blackmail, extortion and other similar crimes. Mycroft had insisted on keeping him in a safe-house/secret prison while Serrure, Anna and a few others worked on the case. It wasn't easy, as the man had eidetic memory, which meant that he didn't really need to have much material evidence. In the end, it was Janine who saved us, as she apparently had kept a number of photos and copies of sensitive documents, they were supposed to be her exit strategy, and in the end became much more. In a very private trial (due to how sensitive some of the information was) Magnussen was found guilty of not only libel, blackmail and extortion but also of fraud and perverting the course of justice. He was condemned to 25 years in prison. I seriously doubted he would last that long, however, the complication came the night he was supposed to be transported to the prison where he would serve his time.

"What do you mean he wants to talk to Sherlock?!" John hissed in disbelief. "Does he…?"

"He cannot possibly know that Sherlock is alive," I stated, before John could even finish the

question, then hesitated. "Can he?"

"I think it's less him actually knowing anything, and more him assuming." Anna explained. "It's really no secret that John and Serrure have been doing everything they can to clear Sherlock's name. People still believe that John was the one to start the IBiSH campaign." And they would never know the truth. "Magnussen knows he's lost, I think he just wants to be able to say he knew Sherlock was alive, before we reveal it."

"So that's what he gets." John shrugged indifferently. "What do we get?"

"He says he knows Mary's true name." Anna revealed solemnly.

And there it was. Anything else and we would have been able to ignore the bastard completely, send him to prison and let him rot there. But no matter how hard we all tried, even a couple of new contacts we'd made while on other countries, we still didn't know who Mary truly was. And the last thing we needed was to finish taking down Moriarty's web only for something else to come up at the same time.

Rose didn't know either, all she knew was that the woman was bad, evil… the Spider, my little girl called her. And that made us nervous, because Moriarty was already a spider, and we'd spent six months hunting down the people in his syndicate, burning down every piece of his web. If Mary was another Spider… did that mean she was part of that web? Had we missed something? And if we'd missed her, what guarantee did we have that we hadn't missed something else?

"Sherlock is in Serbia." John pointed out, and I wasn't sure if he was saying that as an excuse for us not to do it, or an explanation why we couldn't. "We cannot keep Magnussen here another day, the authorities will never allow it."

"No they won't, and we won't either."

John's head snapped to the side as he heard the newcomer, I just let out a breath, I knew that was coming, I just knew it.

"I will be going instead." My husband announced.

He was standing right there, wearing his usual suit, and with a copy of the Belstaff coat our brother favored in his hand.

"How will that even work?" John asked, confused. "I mean, I know you claim to be twins and all that, but to anyone who really knows you it's quite obvious you look nothing alike."

"Yes well, Magnussen doesn't know us, does he?" My Maverick pointed out.

I didn't say a word, knowing all too well it was pointless. Instead I focused on helping where I could, taking off his tie, unbuttoning the top two buttons on his shirt, messing his hair just enough to make it look a bit longer than it actually was. Then I helped him put on the coat, making sure the collar was turned up, the way Sherlock preferred.

"That's all good, but if Magnussen really has perfect recall, it won't be enough." John pointed out with a sigh.

"Magic will take care of the rest." My love assured him.

John's eyes widened for a moment, then he let out a breath. Even after a year and a half knowing the truth about us and six months of working closely with all of us (and we'd needed to use our gifts more than once), John still seemed to have trouble getting used to the idea of things like magic… still, he was willing to deal with it.

"I suppose that means we must get going." He declared with another sigh.

"We?" Serrure arched a brow.

"Anyone with modicum intelligence knows I would never let Sherlock go on something like this without me." The doctor pointed out calmly but strongly. "So yes, we are going."

I could only smile at him, nodding.

"You do realize the other two won't like this, right?" Anna told me quietly as the two men finished getting ready for the ruse.

"Like Sherlock would say, obviously." I drawled with a smirk. "But it needs to be done. We cannot afford to miss something, not when all this mess is almost over."

I knew she agreed with me, we might not like it, but it was still something that needed to be done.

 **xXx**

The moment the shot rang out, I froze, I simply couldn't help it. I was with Anna, outside the safe-house, as only John and Serrure (pretending to be Sherlock) had gone in, even the agents had been sent out to allow for a private chat between Magnussen and the Holmes he believed to be the consulting detective. And it wasn't only the shot itself, but that for just an instant I could feel like a cold hand gripping me, a pain so intense I feared I might black out; I didn't need to ask who'd just been shot, I could feel it inside. A heartbeat later, I allowed my magic to take over, as I teleported from the sidewalk where I was standing, straight into the third floor balcony (unlike my match, I needed to see where I was going).

A second shot rang out almost at the same time as I touched solid ground beneath my feet again; I couldn't feel any more pain, but I wasn't focusing on that either, instead I was running, rushing into the room, the curtains flapping against me.

I found my beloved down, blood beginning to pool beneath him, and the same red staining his white shirt. From the corner of my eye I was aware of the fact that Magnussen too was down, him to a shot to the head; but I didn't care about that in that moment. All I cared about was my match, my soulmate…

John was there in the next second, already taking off his jacket and bunching it up to use in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.

"No." His actions finally made me focus beyond the phantom pain and my horror, I pulled a crystal vial out of my own coat. "Use this."

"Dust?" He didn't understand.

"Pour it in the wound." I ordered, then when he hesitated, I added. "It's magic, there's no time to explain, it'll help him."

I wasn't taking any chances, I pulled a second vial out, one with the elixir, and very carefully helped my love drink it. I sensed when it worked, the pain inside me lessened and I could feel him breathing more easily beneath my hands.

"This… this just… it's unbelievable…" John breathed out as he witnessed the effects himself.

"Who did this?" I demanded hotly.

Really, they were supposed to be safe!

"I don't know." John admitted. "I was just outside the room, and no one came in through there… I would have seen them…"

Yes, he would have, which meant that whoever had shot Magnussen and my match, hadn't gone in through the door… Well, the room had a balcony (the one I'd used), and a window facing a different direction, facing an alley to be precise…)

"Black Widow…" My Maverick spluttered, spitting a bit of blood at the same time.

Oh… suddenly, both John and I understood… and Rose's address of 'Spider' took an entirely different meaning. We'd been so wrong…

"Go." John instructed me. "I'll make sure he's alright. You go after her."

I had no idea what made him think that I, the one with the least training in fighting among all of us, was the right person to send against a Black Widow of all people! At the same time, he was a doctor, his instincts would always be to help those in need first; and in that moment he could do more for my love than I could… also, even if the assassin had nothing to do with Moriarty and his web, we couldn't just let her go, so I ran.

A couple of 'jumps' (teleporting) helped me catch up with the black-clad assassin before she could get too far (which was good, because I could have never caught up to her had I been just running). It also probably helped that she reached a dead-end, the building was on the edge of the Thames, and the door leading inside and probably to a staircase was locked.

I didn't give her a chance to aim her gun at me, not even to raise it, the moment both of my feet were on the ground I dropped into a crouch, moving both legs in a sweeping motion. The Black Widow wasn't expecting that and she went down, hard. Taking advantage of the element of surprise I jumped back onto my feet, kicking her wrist with one foot to force her into releasing her gun, and then using the other to kick the gun itself with enough force to send it off the rooftop (and probably into the river).

That was when I ran out of luck, as the assassin took hold of my ankle and pulled, taking me down hard enough I lost my breath and hit my shoulder almost hard enough to dislocate it.

"Bitseach (Bitch)!" I cursed her in Gaelic.

"What are you doing here?!" She demanded, pinning me down with her arms. "How did you even catch up to me?!"

"You made a huge mistake, messing with my family." I hissed at her. "It is also one I will make sure you won't get the chance to make again."

Taking a deep breath, I focused on everything I'd been taught through the years about personal defense. My opponent was both bigger and stronger than me, but that did not mean she'd won already, I wasn't the kind to give up, no matter the odds. She was holding me down by the shoulders, but my arms were mostly free. So I moved them, I knew it wouldn't be enough, but it pushed her into changing her position, in order to try and hold me down more effectively. It was exactly what I needed, my smaller size allowed it so when I pulled my right leg up abruptly, I managed to knee the assassin in the stomach, effectively knocking the air out of her, and stun her enough to push her off me.

The fight began then, and while I was smaller and had less muscle mass than the assassin, I was trained, enough that I wouldn't just go down. It wasn't my style anyway.

We exchanged blows for what seemed like forever. More than once I was forced to use just a little hint of magic, to allow me to move faster, to put a bit more strength behind my kicks and punches; I also knew that the power in my pendant was helping a lot, allowing me endure much more than I would have on any other circumstances. Still, I couldn't use too much magic, nothing that could be seen and remembered, it was too dangerous.

Eventually I grew tired, even with all the magical aid I was still human. The Black Widow took advantage of that and before I could fully process what was going on I was on my back again, this time much, much closer to the edge of the rooftop (most of my head was actually in the air, which was the only reason I didn't hit it hard enough to give me a concussion). The assassin was also much more effective at pinning me down, and I knew that the same trick wouldn't work a second time to free myself.

"Why did you have to get involved?!" The woman practically screamed into my face. "I wasn't after you!"

"You were after my family!" I yelled right back at her.

"I only shot that nosy detective, and he was supposed to be already dead!" She retorted, like that somehow made everything right.

"Newsflash, bitch." I snarled at her. "You didn't shoot Sherlock Holmes tonight, you shot his twin brother, Serrure… you shot my husband!"

In that instant, I made my mind. I knew that if I moved my hips and legs upwards sharply enough it wouldn't release me, but the move would force both of us to flip. Due to where I was laying in that moment, flipping over my head would take both of us over the edge of the building. I wasn't quite sure if we would end on the riverside, or in the Thames itself, but was quite confident that there was enough magic in my pendant to allow me to survive.

Above me the Black Widow, whatever her real name might be (for it certainly wasn't Mary Morstan) began shrieking something, something about John… I was going to retort, to point out that John knew exactly who she was, had known all along; and even if he hadn't, she never stood a chance with him… all that left my mind in an instant, as a shot rang through the night.

For a second, it was like nothing had happened, not really and then… the assassin coughed, blood on the edge of her mouth, then she overbalanced and fell, over my shoulder, off the edge of the rooftop and straight into the wild current of the Thames. When I turned my head I could see John, standing on the opposite edge of the rooftop, smoking gun in hand.

It was over.

 **xXx**

The next morning it was a new day, a new world, almost a new age… The news broke early: Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes was not fraud, he was a proven genius and had truly solved every single case he'd worked in; James Moriarty was real, the chief of a criminal syndicate that had been systematically taken down by the very best of the UK; and Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were married.

The last one wasn't actually planned, but somehow a paparazzi got lucky and managed to take a picture of them holding hands and kissing briefly as they left Angelo's the day of Sherlock's return, it was all over the papers the next morning. In the end they spun a story about marrying secretly (which wasn't that much of a lie). Mycroft helped by rushing all the papers through and filing them in such a way as to make it seem the license had been signed before Sherlock's 'fall'. It all made for a fairy-tale -like love-story in the end, the public loved it. Sherlock of course thought it was stupid while John enjoyed the opportunity to stand by his match always and hated the media attention (he never did like them after the way they vilified Sherlock in the weeks leading to that last confrontation with Moriarty on Bart's rooftop).

After six months things seemed to have finally calmed down completely. Sherlock and John were once again working solving cases (the only change there was that he hadn't gone back to doing locum work for Sarah's clinic, or any other); Sherlock had actually taken great delight in having a new set of business cards printed, which read: _Sherlock and John Watson-Holmes, Consulting Detectives_. We all knew John liked them too. Mycroft's and Anna's marriage and their position among the 'nobility' of Britain was old news too, as was the fact that the Kinross solicitor was, in fact, the third Holmes brother.

Rose turned ten and we celebrated with a party in Regent's Park. We had a good life, we were happy, and then Mycroft called us into his office at Whitehall…

"Earlier today I received a call from an old… acquaintance, Nick Fury." I knew I'd heard that name before, and an instinct inside told me I wasn't going to like what was coming. "Apparently something has happened, and he's asking for assistance."

"Assistance?" John and Serrure inquired at the same time.

"With what?" I thought prudent to add.

"You wouldn't even consider replying to the request of a private citizen, who is Nick Fury really?" Sherlock asked almost at the same time.

"There has been a theft, a very valuable relic has been stolen." Mycroft explained. "The theft occurred yesterday at around 400 hours, Western America time, at the same time the unexpected earthquake happened and the facility housing the object collapsed in on itself."

"If the place collapsed what makes them so sure that the object was stolen and it's not just somewhere under the rubble?" John inquired, confused.

"There were witnesses to the theft, among those who survived the disaster." Nick clarified. "They've tried tracking it down and after getting nothing but failure for 24 hours, Nick decided to call for our help… or more precisely, your help Sherlock."

"What's so important about this relic?" Sherlock asked suspiciously. "No mere relic would move whole organizations, much less push the Director of one to cash in an old favor from someone in another country. Also, if it were a mere theft you wouldn't even be telling us about it. So tell me, brother, what's really going on?"

"The relic in question is over a thousand-years-old, holds power beyond the comprehension of every single scientist who has studied it, there are rumors that it might not even be from our planet." Mycroft stated, half scoffing at the last part. "It's called the Tesseract."

I couldn't help it, I cursed, briefly but colorfully; beside me my match was doing much worse.

"What?!" Everyone turned to face us instantly.

"The Tesseract is, indeed, not from this world." I began, not quite sure how to explain.

"It's an Asgardian artifact, or at least it's acknowledged as such." My match elaborated. "Truth is that while it was held in the Realm Eternal for thousands of years, its existence predates any and all the Realms, it is said that the Tesseract, as one of the six Infinity Stones, was one of the powers that created the universe itself."

Everyone blinked, they might have known we weren't exactly normal, especially my husband, but they still had trouble grasping it all, especially Sherlock with his extremely-scientific mind. Only the fact that my beloved had an explanation for why everything he did was possible, even if the science was far beyond anything humans could process, had kept him from having a complete meltdown more than once.

"Nick Fury… he's the director of SHIELD, isn't he?" I blurted out, as it came to me.

"How did you know that?" Anna asked me, curious.

"I think Aunt Kathryn knew him." I explained quietly. "I think she might have worked for more than just MI5 and the SSR those years before she came to live with my dad and I…"

I thought, but I couldn't know for sure, she'd been dead too long for me to even consider asking such questions to her.

For seconds that seemed to last an eternity nothing was said and then… it was my match who broke the tense silence:

"If what you've been told is true." He began, slowly. "I have no idea what kind of insanity filled those humans' minds, made them believe they could tap into something like the Tesseract and not suffer the consequences… but if they've really done that, and if it has been stolen by another party… then whoever's behind the theft will be too much for any of them, or you, to handle… No offense meant, brother."

"None taken." Sherlock assured him dismissively. "What does that mean, though?"

"It means that, if you're taking the case, we're going with you." I announced.

It was crazy, beyond that even, and I knew that, we all did. One need not be a genius to know that if the Tesseract was involved, Asgard would get involved, sooner or later, if they weren't already. We all knew there had been visitors from Asgard before, reportedly Thor himself had been in London about twelve years prior or so, for something the American astrophysicist Dr. Jane Foster had called 'The Convergence'. My love had explained to us it was a phenomenon that only happened every five thousand years or so, the perfect alignment of all Nine Realms; also, for whatever the reason, it was a time when the barriers separating them became thinner, and more easily crossed, even by accident. The mess had been huge, and Mycroft had been one of the people who'd to deal with it (the moment we learnt an Asgardian was in town the two Holmes brothers had put us on a car bound to Lyon and the Holmes estate there, to keep us safe).

In any case, if Thor (or someone else) wasn't in our world yet, there was no doubt they would be sometime soon. Which meant that, if we went, we would end up meeting sooner or later.

"I thought the whole point of you coming here was to stay away from Thor, from Asgard." Anna pointed out the obvious.

"It was." I agreed. "And as much as we… as I might like that to continue… some things are more important." I let out a breath. "We cannot remain in hiding forever."

No, we couldn't. It'd been almost fifteen years, and as wonderful as the life we had in that moment might be… we would never forget everything we'd left behind, everything I had left behind. There were parts of my old life I would never be able to take back, like my father, and my aunt… and while, with them gone, some might say there was no reason for me to go back, and I knew it would be much easier to just remain Arianna Kinross-Holmes for the rest of my life… it just wasn't right. Could we really hide away, let our own fear and insecurities rule us, when we knew we were needed? And not just Sherlock and John either (because as intriguing as the whole thing was, we knew they would be taking the case); because deep down we all knew that only someone with great power would even consider stealing an object like the Tesseract, and whatever they were planning on doing with it, it just couldn't be good.

"We will go." My love confirmed.

And that was that.

 **xXx**

The decision had been made, still, that did not erase the tension. Arrangements were made and for us to leave in the morning, on a private plane and while we all knew we should be going to sleep, it just seemed impossible in that moment.

We were in our home (Serrure's and mine), at some point, I didn't know when, Serrure began playing with a few scales on his guitar, something to distract himself. Less than a minute later Sherlock was beside him, violin in hand, playing an accompaniment. I was pulled into it before I even realized what was going on, the words leaving my lips without my conscious decision:

"I can see

When you stay low nothing happens

Does it feel right?

Late at night

Things I thought I put behind me

Haunt my mind."

"I just know there's no escape now

Once it sets its eyes on you

But I won't run,

Have to stare it in the eye."

"Stand my ground, I won't give in

No more denying, I've got to face it

Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside

If I don't make it, someone else will

Stand my ground."

My darling Rose sealed the mix when she began marking the rhythm hitting the wooden floor with her own feet, like some kind of drum. I was teaching her to play the flute, with the same dizi that had been her papa's first gift to me, but it was obvious she could see, like I did, that the song just wasn't right for that kind of instrument. It was darker, harder… it was the mix of all our fears and our strengths, all we were willing to do, the affirmation that we were done running.

"It's all around

Getting stronger, coming closer

Into my world."

"I can feel

That it's time for me to face it

Can I take it?"

"Though this might just be the ending

Of the life I held so dear

But I won't run,

There's no turning back from here."

"Stand my ground, I won't give in

No more denying, I've got to face it

Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside

If I don't make it, someone else will

Stand my ground."

John didn't say a word, he just sat beside Rose, watching and listening. While for me, and even or my love, since he first took up a guitar, playing music and singing was a form of catharsis, and even the doctor had long since realized the same was true for Sherlock; he'd never seen us when we got like that (and I wasn't even playing, I was good with the piano…). Still, I had a feeling that even being completely human, a part of him could sense the energy we were exuding, the magic building around us for no other reason than stating what we all knew deep down, what we'd known for years: that we were family, and as such we would stand and fight together.

"All I know for sure is I'm trying

I will always stand my ground."

"Stand my ground, I won't give in (I won't give in)

I won't give up (I won't give up)

No more denying, I got to face it

Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside

If I don't make it, someone else will…"

"Stand my ground, I won't give in

No more denying, I got to face it

Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside

If I don't make it, someone else will

Stand my ground."

We would stand our ground, against whoever the Tesseract's thief might be, and if necessary, against SHIELD and Asgard itself as well. I was no longer a sixteen-year-old girl, we were no longer the people we'd been then and truth was in that moment… we'd much more to lose…

 **xXx 3** **rd** **person POV xXx**

A number of SHIELD Agents were standing around as the private plane carrying the British investigative team landed on the helicarrier. They didn't all need to be there, but some were curious about what could be so special about the newcomers. Upon first sight of the two tall, ink-black haired men in bespoke suits (one with a dark shirt blue scarf and a dark coat, the other with a white shirt, a dark skinny tie and a gray coat), each walking side by side with a shorter partner, the first a dirty-blonde in a button up, light-blue jeans and a jumper, the other a woman (shorter than even the blonde man) with dark auburn hair in a bun, wearing a flowered top, dark jeans and a black coat; none of them seemed like much to look at.

The bridge was full when Fury introduced the group:

"Welcome Sherlock and John Watson-Holmes, as well as Serrure and Arianna Kinross-Holmes." The Director stated, signaling to each pairing in turn. "They are here to help us recover the Tesseract and catch the ones responsible for the disaster at New Mexico?"

"I see the point of the detective, but what's the point for the rest?" An almost old-looking agent asked in a dismissive tone.

It looked like Fury might say something, but Sherlock was faster, and sharper.

"First of all, it's Consulting Detectives." He stated coldly, looking straight at the man. "If you've managed to miss that despite how well publicized it has been it's no wonder your organization managed to lose a thousand-year-old relic. It's actually more of a surprise that it did not happen even sooner."

"That still doesn't explain what we want a lawyer and an interpreter for?" The man insisted.

"If when you look at my brother and sister all you see is a lawyer and an interpreter I have no idea what you're doing working as an agent." Sherlock sneered. "Arianna could probably take you down in five seconds flat."

There were several snorts around the room; however it was the considering looks a number of people directed at the small (she was barely more than five feet tall!) woman that were most telling; and the way no one on her side smiled, winked or rolled their eyes. Many thought the detective was just embellishing for the sake of his sister-in-law, but a few wondered…

The moment was broken, in a most unexpected way, when a thirty-something year old blonde in a tactical suit stepped into the room, causing an immediate reaction from the most unexpected person in the room:

"Sharon?!" It was John Watson who spoke.

The two blondes looked at each other for a couple of seconds before moving into an embrace.

"You know each other?" No one knew who exactly it was that asked the question, though it didn't really matter.

"We're siblings." The two answered in unison.

For a handful of seconds no one said a thing, absolutely shocked, then the mayhem began.

"But you don't even have the same surnames!" A dark-haired woman in a black flightsuit, Fury's second in command, Maria Hill, stated, baffled.

"I was born Sharon Margaret Watson." The blonde female stated calmly. "When SHIELD made me an offer, and I decided to take it, I also made the decision to change my last-name from my father's, to my mother's, in order to protect my siblings."

"Siblings?" Fury arched a brow.

"I have another sister, the oldest of the three of us, her name's Harry." John clarified.

"Why are these familial relations not in your records?" Hill wanted to know, she'd never liked not knowing things.

"Like I said, the aim all along was to protect Harry and John." Sharon insisted. "If they'd been in any records, changing my name would have been pointless."

Eventually everyone had to admit she was right and things calmed down some. There was still distrust, but it's not like that was something new in SHIELD… and yet, to people like the four Holmeses, who'd spent six months working together to systematically bring down the greatest crime syndicate in Europe, who were a family above all… they didn't like it.

 **xXx Nightingale's POV xXx**

After our less-than-stellar introduction to SHIELD, I just knew there was going to be trouble, and I was right. It hadn't taken long for Serrure to shut them all up about what he 'brought to the table', a single discussion was enough to show how knowledgeable he was, and a session in the shooting range proved to anyone who might have had doubts just how capable he was of looking after himself.

Sherlock was famous enough, even in America, and John… everyone there knew that regardless of how he might usually dress he was a former military captain and not at all afraid to make use of any in the wide range of his abilities (being a doctor didn't just mean he could heal, also many other things like where and how to make a person hurt, how much pain one could take, etc.). It wasn't the same case with me. I knew what everyone think the moment they looked at me, that I was a child. Nevermind that I was 31 years old and the mother of a ten-year-old child (whom we'd had to leave with Mycroft, just in case); they still looked at me, at my size, and believed me to be less. While usually I would find it amusing, in that moment it just infuriated me.

"How am I, how are any of us supposed to train with you if you refuse every weapon you're offered?" The redhead known as Agent Romanoff asked, almost exasperated.

I knew what they called her, the Black Widow. She was another Black Widow, the only one in history who'd fully switch sides, unlike others like Sofia (whom John had briefly met while in Afghanistan) Yelena Belova (whom SHIELD had fought in the past) and, of course, Alicia Addams (Mary Morstan).

"I just don't like guns…" I said with a shrug.

I really didn't, I never had, though it'd only gotten worse since my husband had been shot that night. There was also the fact that every single gun she'd offered had too much of a kick for me to handle it with ease.

"Then how are you supposed to fight?" Romanoff insisted.

"If you think that guns are the only weapons in existence you're not as clever as we've been told, Agent Romanoff." John said in a chiding tone.

"That may be true, but as a marksman you must understand the advantage it gives you to be able to handle a long distance weapon such a gun." Romanoff turned her attention completely to him, as if I weren't there anymore. "She already has a disadvantage because of her size, hand to hand is practically out of the question and…"

I was about to burst; somehow John cracked first.

"You're a Black Widow, aren't you?" He asked abruptly.

"A Black Widow?" We could all hear the air quotes.

"You know who Alicia Addams was." He went on, though he wasn't asking questions anymore.

"She was before my generation… but yes, I know who she is." Romanoff nodded.

"Was." John corrected. "She's dead. As of six months ago, more or less. Though a spy of your caliber… I imagine you already knew that."

"She was shot, straight through the heart." Romanoff conceded. "I imagine it was you."

"She'd shot my brother-in-law, though her intention was actually to murder my husband, after having already done exactly that with Charles Magnussen." John explained with a light shrug. However, there's a little detail you're missing. Yes, I fired the shot that killed her, but I'd have never managed that if someone else hadn't stalled her long enough for me to get there and line a shot… Ari did that."

I knew it was coming, from the very first moment John had mentioned Alicia, still, I didn't try to stop him. I was also expecting the complete disbelief from Romanoff, so it didn't surprise me. I still bristled at the disbelieving snorts and dismissive scoffs from several agents around us.

"She cannot have possibly fought a Black Widow to a standstill." The dark-blonde in the black sleeveless tactical suit and carrying a bow of all weapons said in disbelief.

"Why?" I couldn't help it, I snapped. "Because I look young? Believe me, I'm older than I look. Because I'm so small? Size isn't everything. That bitseach thought she could shoot my husband in the chest and get away with it, I set her right."

"Prove it." Someone around challenged.

"Why?!" I demanded in return. "What have I to prove, to any of you? I know who I am, and what I'm capable of. And I don't owe anything to anyone in this vessel. Lets leave one thing quite clear people: I'm not here because I decided it was a good idea to go gallivanting around the world in a bloody flying fortress! Your boss called for us."

"He called for the detective!" Another man snapped.

"It's consulting detective, pay attention." John and I called in unison, before turning to look at each other and chuckling.

"Your boss called for the team that took down Moriarty's crime syndicate." John qualified. "That means all of us."

Technically it should also have meant Mycroft and Anna… but they couldn't just drop everything to join us, they had public lives and the kind of jobs that couldn't just be pushed aside. No matter who may be asking for a favor.

I sensed what was coming a fraction of a second before it did: as Romanoff probably decided that talking was pointless and moved to deliver a spinning kick at my back. I dropped into a crouch the moment I sensed the danger coming, feeling the air breaking above my hair as her leg passed over my head. Then I twisted my body before moving my right leg in a sweeping motion aiming at her own (the one leg keeping her standing). She was much faster than Alicia as she went into a back flip to avoid my attack.

A second later we were both back on our feet, looking at each other, alert.

"Ari…" John began, unsure.

"It's alright." I told him, moving my joints one by one to make sure I wouldn't pull a muscle or something. "I have a feeling this is a necessary."

And it was, fighting was probably the only way they'd ever stop seeing me as a child. Still, I knew I had to be careful: no magic, and not allowing the pendant to help me too much, it was too soon for certain secrets to come to the light…

There was no signal, nor was it needed, from a second to the next, the fight was on.

 **xXx 3** **rd** **person POV xXx**

It was never quite clear just who won that spar. As far as the SHIELD agents were concerned, Romanoff was the best, and she'd obviously been holding back… yet John knew that Arianna had done the same, she'd never used her magic, after all. Not that she'd used it (or at least, not much, and certainly not in obvious ways) against Alicia, but still. In all the time he'd known both her and Loki/Serrure, John had only ever seen the small woman use her power in a violent matter, once: in Sweden… the conspiracy-theorists and insane reporters were less wrong than usual on that one: a lot more had happened on Sweden than had been reported. Then again, most of those who'd been there, that had seen… had reacted with so much disbelief that by the time they were questioned about the events they either didn't remember certain details, or had convinced themselves things couldn't possibly had happened like that.

At least one good thing came from that spar: most agents stopped seeing Arianna as a child. A few other agents also showed interest in fighting her, all of them really, but they seemed especially intrigued by her style. The way she used her size to her advantage, it was interesting. Only once they questioned why she'd ever learnt to fight:

"I'm the last of a noble line, married to a man from another noble House." She began enlisting. "A man who's also a high-profile lawyer, while I myself am an interpreter and ambassador aid with very high clearance. And, lets not forget, sister to the two only consulting detectives in the world… I knew from the time I was sixteen years old that I'd need to know how to defend myself from those trying to hurt me and mine."

It was the truth, though not the whole truth. The ones she'd been worried most about being able to defend from had never been human… there was a reason why she was quite capable of doing battle with magic as well, after all.

There were a few agents the Holmeses got along with better than others, of course. Like Phil's crazy team, whom they'd met before, during the hunt. Skye in particular loved talking to all of them, and while she'd some trouble keeping up when Sherlock when into one of his rants, she never gave up. There was also the fact that a part of Skye ached for the connection the Holmeses shared, she'd tried to get that with her team, but aside from Phil (who at times acted more like a dad than a superior officer) it was impossible. Phil had done so much for her, not only forgiving her near-betrayal to a member of the Rising Tide, her secrets; he'd also helped her find out as much as possible about her past, about her family, helped her believe in herself like she never had before. And yet… sometimes she just wanted more. She wanted a family…

The case progressed somewhat slowly in the next following days. They weren't the only ones working on the theft of course, but nothing anyone was doing seemed to be working.

Dr. Bruce Banner and Tony Stark (aka Iron Man) had created an algorithm meant to track the minor levels of gamma radiation the Cube (what the agents called the Tesseract) emitted; yet it was as if whoever had it had placed it somewhere completely shielded, for they hadn't been able to lock down on any location yet.

SHIELD as a whole was combing the planet through every ally, contact and informant they had, they had found out about an odd theft in Germany, but nothing helpful.

Sherlock and John (and to a lesser degree Serrure and Arianna) had gone through all the pictures and video feed available. Fury had refused to give them data on the experiments being conducted, on ground of 'national security' they all thought it was stupid but decided it probably wasn't fully necessary. Sherlock had even insisted on being taken to the place where the labs had been; though it hadn't changed much, there was nothing left of the place but a hole in the ground, there was no actual 'crime scene' for the consulting detective(s) to study personally. Only pictures and poorly-pieced-together security videos. It just wasn't enough.

And then, almost a week to the day since their arrival, what they'd been waiting for/dreading all along, happened: Thor made an appearance.

The Holmeses didn't even try to hide or avoid him, they knew there was no point. Learning that Thor hadn't arrived alone made the situation a tad more delicate, but it wasn't like the general danger changed any. It actually took almost an hour for their paths to cross, and not for any doing in their part. The Holmeses were simply locked in the conference room they'd been assigned, trying to find something among all those pictures and videos that might give them a clue as to where the Tesseract might be, and how exactly the thief was managing to keep it from being detected even by the joint efforts of SHIELD, Stark and Banner.

They were interrupted by Skye going to fetch them on Coulson's orders. Apparently Fury wanted everyone together to introduce the new 'ally'. Skye could see the tension in all of them even as they walked to the bridge, Sherlock and John keeping in front of Serrure and Arianna, John's dominant hand practically hovering over his gun, Arianna's own fingers kept twitching, almost tracing symbols in the air. The hacker-come-agent had no idea of what had put them in such a mood, but instinctively knew it couldn't be good; to the point where she surreptitiously made sure her own gun (an ICER) was easily accessible, as well as keeping an eye for any possible threats. She still could have never imagined what happened once they entered the bridge.

Thor, the huge tanned, blonde behemoth of a man was talking about something with Fury and Coulson, looked like he might begin actually arguing anytime soon, and then he broke off mid-sentence. At the exact moment Skye and the Holmeses entered the bridge…

Everyone bore witness the moment the blonde practically spun around, his gaze immediately moving past the first Holmes pair and to the second one.

"Brother…" He breathed out.

A single word, and how it made every single person react, in one way or another. Thor made to approach the slightly-taller of the 'twins', made harder by the way the other three Holmeses refused to move away, everyone else in the room was on high alert.

"Loki?!" The Warriors Three called in unison from where they'd been standing, bored, on the other side of the room.

"The Allfather will want us to bring him back, question him on his disappearance fifteen years ago, and on the brat…"

One need not be a genius to realize who was the threat in that moment, in an instant Arianna had moved to cover her husband with her body (as much as she could, at least), with Sherlock and John splitting to cover Serrure's flanks (John still standing between Thor and his brother-in-law).

"What do you think you're doing?" Fandral demanded. "Loki is dangerous, a criminal, he must be arrested."

"You so much as try to touch him with negative intent and I will make you regret it." Arianna sounded almost inhuman, snarling at the Asgardians like that.

"Why are you defending him little girl?" Volstagg asked in a tone he probably thought sounded caring, but was in fact too condescending.

"First of all, I'm not a little girl, by the stars I am 31 years old which, in this time, age, and realm, means I'm off age and have been for over a decade." Arianna went into a roll. "Second of all, of course I will defend him, he's my husband!"

The silence that followed that declaration was so thick it was almost as if the air had been sucked out of the room, no one so much as moved.

"You're the mortal girl who knew too much…" Hogun realized abruptly. "You are the reason he ran away fifteen years ago."

Arianna smirked almost provocatively at them.

"This is absolutely ridiculous." Sif rolled her eyes. "Lets just take Loki and get him to the Allfather like we're supposed to. They're mortals, what are they going to do?"

What happened in the next handful of seconds went so fast no one could interfere; most people could hardly even follow all the action. The Asgardian warrior lady, Sif, and the blonde among the males went straight for Serrure/Loki, not caring at all about the girl standing in between, they didn't even pay much attention when she raised both hands, tracing figures in the air with her hands before slamming both hands, palms wide open, into the air in front of her.

"Algiz!" She called loudly, her voice somehow still sounding like bells.

The effect wasn't obvious right away, not until the two Aesir tried to pass her (or maybe push her aside) and instead they crashed into some invisible barrier that rippled slightly (allowing it to be seen for a moment) at the impact, yet did not break.

Fandral and Sif both fell on their asses, completely dumbfounded by what had just happened. However, while Sif chose to stand up and stand back, try and think of a better plan, Fandral went charging right back in.

"You're not taking him from me!" Arianna hissed at the same time she waved her hands.

The effect was immediate that time. Instead of just crashing into an invisible shield again, that same barrier moved, almost violently, throwing the blonde asgardian back and sending him flying several feet and into his friends.

No one said a word for several very long seconds. It was as if, in the eyes of many of those present, Arianna Kinross Holmes had completely transformed in that moment; she was still small and looking so very young and yet, there was power in her, she knew it, and it showed; in the way she stood, in the way she looked at everyone around her, as if waiting for the next person who might be foolish enough to threaten her loved ones.

"Who are you, young one?" Thor asked, confused.

"Arianna Kinross-Holmes." She announced formally. "Wife of Serrure Kinross-Holmes, sister of Sherlock and John Watson-Holmes and Lord and Lady Mycroft and Anna Kemp-Holmes…" she made a dramatic pause before adding: "You may call me Lady Nightingale."

"You're the Lady Nightingale…?" Thor breathed out in shock. "You're Loki's friend… and the one who 'knew too much'…"

He was probably beginning to connect the dots. The fact that his adopted-brother's friend had been a human, whom their father hadn't approved of, what would have probably happened to her, which was exactly why they'd run.

"Names are completely irrelevant." Sif insisted, coldly. "Loki is to be taken back to Asgard to be judged by the Allfather, along with his friend, that is the law."

The argument (or fight) might have gone on for longer, much longer, when Sherlock decided it was time to step in.

"You cannot touch him." He announced calmly. "It's in the deal that was signed by Director Fury and our brother. We all hold diplomatic immunity while this mission lasts, and once it's over we're going back home."

"The Realm Eternal and the Allfather are not subject to midgardian laws." Fandral scoffed.

"Our world, our rules." John stated at him. "You must remember, warrior, that you're here at invitation of us, midgardians. These are not the ancient times, when you were all hailed and revered as gods simply because you had some abilities that surpassed those of most humans. We are not so naive anymore."

"Mr. Watson-Holmes is correct, I'm afraid." Maria Hill stated, and it was obvious how much she did not like admitting that. "All the Holmeses hold diplomatic immunity as long as they're here, helping us with this case."

"But he's not a Holmes!" Sif practically snarled. "He's not human!"

"Irrelevant." Sherlock drawled. "You will find that all the paperwork is in order, Serrure Holmes is my twin brother, younger brother of Mycroft Kemp-Holmes, son of Marise Violet and Siger Sherrinford Vernet-Holmes."

All the documents were in perfect order, it would be impossible for almost anyone to tell that 'Serrure' hadn't been born as Sherlock Holmes's twin (Skye and Anna had made sure of that, with a bit of help from Loki's own magic).

"You may all have diplomatic immunity protecting you of any present faults, particularly since they do not concern the United States, however, they do not protect you from crimes committed in the past, in our jurisdiction, particularly the kind of crimes that are not under the statute of limitation." Fury stated in an even tone.

"And what crime could that be?" Sherlock drawled.

"Murder." Fury said coldly. "More precisely, the murder of Silbhé Salani, daughter of Sebastian and Aislinn Salani, almost fifteen years ago."

"Murder?!" Several of those presents called, horrified.

In fact, the Aesir bar Thor seemed to be the only ones not surprised, horrified or both at Fury's unexpected affirmation.

"That is a very serious accusation." John said, before Sherlock could begin verbally eviscerating the Director of SHIELD. "What proof have you?"

For all answer Fury pulled a small glossy square out of his pocket: an old Polaroid. It showed an auburn-haired hazel-eyed girl in her mid-teens, wearing an off-white skirt and a lilac off-the-shoulder loose top, sitting beneath a huge tree, legs pulled close to her; and she wasn't alone, Loki was right there, sitting beside her in a green-tunic and black-leather pants, her head on his shoulder. They looked perfectly at peace…

"Where did you get that?" Arianna blurted out before she could stop herself.

"It was part of the personal possessions of an old friend, Agent Kathryn Adler." Fury stated. "She passed away years ago, with no family, I was the closest relation she'd left, and thus the embassy in Southern Africa sent me her belongings, or what was left after they made sure the virus that killed her had been completely eradicated."

The small woman looked completely lost, as if she didn't know what to do or say anymore; and yet she wouldn't move from her position.

"You don't have a body." Sherlock said, sure of himself. "You cannot make an accusation of murder, prosecute someone, without a body, a murder weapon and a motive."

"The motive is that he's a dangerous bastard." Fandral drawled.

"He's a sorcerer, so looking for a weapon is pretty pointless, and so is looking for a body, he could have quite easily disposed of it." Sif hissed harshly, before focusing completely on Arianna. "So he killed the brat… that is surprising… and to think I believed you to be her. Though I suppose it's only his nature as a monster…"

No one saw it coming. From one moment to the next Sif was suddenly standing there, a red, bleeding line on her cheek, less than an inch under her right eye. A small knife was embedded in the wall a couple of feet behind her.

"What the…?!" No one knew quite what to say to that.

"Next time you insult my match I'll do a lot more than nick your cheek." Arianna threatened.

Everyone believed her that time.

"Verbal insults are irrelevant." Fury stated. "I will still arrest you, Serrure Kinross-Holmes, Luka Hvedrungr, Loki, whatever your name might be…"

"You cannot accuse him of murder." Sherlock insisted. "You have no proof."

"Doesn't matter." Fury insisted, pulling out his gun. "I will see justice done. For Kathryn, and her innocent niece."

The effect was immediate as guns were drawn all around the bridge, everyone on guard. It was worse than any movie stand-off, and it wouldn't be getting better… and yet, one could hardly expect such a situation to get worse, right? Right…

The sound of a small metal piece clattering to the ground, following by a bigger one and then footsteps of booted feet slowly, purposefully crossing the room, broke the tense silence… and showed how much worse things could still get.

 **xXx Nightingale's POV xXx**

I couldn't quite believe everything that was going on in that moment, it was so far beyond anything I'd ever expected or imagined. The things Director Fury was willing to do, the lengths he was prepared to go, and all for the memory of a woman he'd last seen almost thirty years prior and a girl he'd never met… Of course, I had known Kathryn Adler by another name: Kathryn Salani, my aunt. Agent Carter, Sharon, John's sister, actually reminded me of her; not in her looks, for while both were blonde, that was as far as their physical likeness went. No, it was because my aunt too had worked for the government, and had chosen to change her surname to that of her mother in order to keep her family safe.

I'd always suspected that Aunt Kathryn had been closer to her old colleague and friend, Nicholas, than she ever admitted. I'd seen the secret keepsake box, with its silver and glass necklace inside, and the note… still, the mere fact that my aunt had never been with anyone in all the years I lived with her had made me believe it hadn't been that important. It couldn't possibly have been true love, because one did not leave their true love. One did anything and everything to stay by their side, forever… wasn't that what I did? When I left my childhood home in secret before we could be caught? When we spent a summer going through Europe, doing our best to leave no tracks? When we changed our names and buried any trace of our pasts so deep, hoping it'd never be uncovered again?

Except it'd been uncovered. Our past was coming back to haunt us, in a way that even my love's Asgardian connections hadn't. We'd prepared for the Aesir wanting a piece of my husband, but not for a human being after him, and for something that hadn't really happened! I'd thought that any connection to my old name, my old life had died with my aunt… apparently it hadn't. Maybe it was only right, after all, if my love had stood up to his past, stood his ground, shouldn't I do the same? Maybe it really was time for all the secrets to be revealed…

I was pulled abruptly back to the present by the sound of a small metallic object hitting the ground, followed by a bigger one. From the corner of my eye I saw then what looked like a badge and a service gun that had been carelessly dropped. Then booted footsteps and a certain blonde woman went to stand by John, closing the formation around my love.

"Sharon…" I heard John murmur quietly. "Are you sure about this?"

"You're my brother Johnny…" Sharon reminded him with a small smile. "Which means that the rest of them are family too, one way or the other. I know my priorities."

"Agent Carter!" Maria Hill cried out, absolutely horrified.

I don't think she, don't think anyone, ever expected something like that to happen. For one of their own agents to turn their backs on SHIELD, to choose someone else.

And she wasn't the only one.

"I'm sorry AC…" Skye's quiet voice almost broke my heart, I knew what was coming even before the next words left her lips: "Sherlock, Serrure, I'm taking you up on your offer!"

She didn't drop her badge and gun, instead placing them on her superior: Phil Coulson's hand, before purposefully walking to us, standing between Sharon and Sherlock.

"Welcome, little sister." Sherlock smiled at her, a true smile.

It was true, ever since she'd helped us with a particularly complicated 'mission' during the Hunt, the Holmeses had looked for a way to pay her back. She didn't care for money, and already had a job. She knew all that could be known about her family (which wasn't much, but at least she knew she hadn't always been on her own)… it'd been Serrure's idea, one that Sherlock had backed up instantly, and Mycroft eventually. To offer Skye the Holmes name. Not only for the security (financial and social) that it offered, but also for something that was so much simpler and at the same time much more important: a family.

The disbelief only grew then. I could vaguely hear and see (from the corner of my eye), Steve Rogers (Captain America) staring at Sharon with absolute disbelief, wordlessly trying to ask her why she'd made such a choice; her eyes tearing up as she mouthed a dozen apologies, pleading with him to understand…

Skye's boyfriend, Grant Ward, looked absolutely livid with her choice; Agent May (also part of Skye's team) looked half-annoyed half-upset, the scientist team of FitzSimmons looked utterly confused, though it was Coulson's look that hit me hardest, reminded me of all the dreams (or more like nightmares) that I'd had about Aunt Kathryn after her death, wondering what she might have thought those last few years, when she knew nothing of me, all because I was too afraid of calling the wrong kind of attention… and then it was too late.

I knew Phil saw Skye as a daughter, she was the only one who'd managed to get close to him since the end of his last relationship (the things one learns when one's husband and brothers end up going to the pub with secret agents in foreign countries…). If he lost her…

I knew I had to do something. Because the situation we were in, in that moment, it wasn't going to end with Sharon and Skye switching to our 'side'. Steve just might love Sharon enough to follow her, Tony was likely to switch too, if only to aggravate Fury, and if Phil decided he cared for Skye more than he cared for SHIELD… there would be no recovering from a blow like that, for any of us.

I made the choice then, to step up, to stop the madness before it got too far.

"You cannot accuse my husband of murder." I said softly but strongly, all the while staring straight at the gun he still wanted to aim at my love. "Not only because there is no dead body or murder weapon to be found anywhere, and there never has been… but because there has been no crime." Slowly, purposefully, I pulled at the band holding my hair in a bun, letting it fall down my shoulder, revealing a color much lighter than it seemed at first sight. "My name is Silbhé Arianna Kinross-Holmes Salani. You cannot accuse my husband of my murder because I'm right here, I'm alive and have always been."

 **xXx 3** **rd** **Person POV xXx**

It wasn't easy, for Silbhé Arianna to prove she really was who she claimed to be. But in the end it was possible. Records still existed, thought deeply buried down, of the name she'd had back before she'd claimed her Kinross birthright (her noble title, which she hardly ever used anyway), the name she'd halved, so to speak, when going to live in Britain, with the Holmes family. Those records were then confirmed with fingerprints and blood-tests, though they all drew the line at DNA testing. They thought Fury was going over the line in an attempt to prove they were wrong; and the last thing they needed was for anyone to notice the young woman wasn't fully human anymore and begin asking questions. It'd been complicated enough to explain how she was alive, with blood cancer that ought to have killed her back when she was fourteen.

"Have you had enough yet?" She demanded of Fury eventually. "Or will you continue this pointless research? We have far more urgent matters to deal with like, you know, the case you brought us all here for in the first place! Finding the Tesseract!"

"You're here to help?" Thor interrupted, not having expected that.

"Thor Odinson," Loki/Serrure called in a very even tone. "Let me introduce to you my family."

It was a jibe at the blonde, and everyone could see it, but Thor managed to keep himself in check, probably realizing that after the last hour Loki needed to hold onto something that was only his. It pained him that it wasn't him (Thor), but he still understood, to a point. He only hoped to get the chance to make peace with his adopted brother at some point. Regardless of what might have happened in the past he did care for the dark-haired man a lot.

"You've already heard my match introduce herself." The sorcerer went on. "My brothers are Sherlock and John Watson-Holmes, they're consulting detectives. They're the reason we're here. Director Fury called in a favor our older brother, Mycroft, owed him to get us all here and help him find the Tesseract."

"You specialize in finding what's been lost?" Thor inquired, sounding oddly anxious.

"We specialize in solving cases, puzzles." Sherlock clarified. "Which can take the forms of missing people, murders, blackmailers and many more… it depends."

"Please, find my Lady Jane!" Thor cried out.

Silence was absolute… no one was expecting that.

"What?!" Several of us cried out at the same time.

"There's someone missing?" John demanded, turning to Hill and Fury instantly. "Missing, not dead? We were told nothing of this! Why were we not told?"

"It was irrelevant." Fury stated stoically.

"Irrelevant?!" Serrure/Loki, John and Silbhé Arianna practically screeched at the same time.

"Nothing is irrelevant in the process of solving a case, Director." Sherlock stated chidingly. "It's no wonder you haven't been able to find the lost relic, you've been going about this the wrong way all along!"

"What do you mean?" Sharon asked, curious.

"We've spent days trying to figure out how the thief is managing to shield the Cube from the algorithm, Banner and Stark created to track it down. And no one thought it prudent to mention that the relic was in the hands of a genius astrophysicist who has both the knowledge and the means to manage such a thing!"

"We should be looking for her, not for the Cube." Serrure added, showing how in sync the two of them could be. "The Tesseract might be shielded, but she isn't."

"And if we find her, we find the Cube." John and Arianna finished in unison.

"Get moving people!" Sherlock called, sounding absolutely delighted as he hurried out of the bridge and in the direction of their temporary office. "The Game is On!"

"Does he… does he actually sound delighted that a woman has been kidnapped?" Hill asked, sounding deeply disgusted.

All the Holmeses (even the newest one) rolled their eyes in unison.

"That's not how it works with Sherlock." John tried to explain. "With him it's about solving cases. We've spent the last five days going in circles, trying to solve this one, and it seemed impossible. Only to now learn that it only seemed that way because we didn't have all the information. Because you didn't believe it prudent to give us all the information."

"It wasn't important…" Fury tried to insist.

"My lady Jane is important" Thor roared.

"I think it's just been proven that everything is important." Loki pointed out. "You're the one who called us here director. Even the greatest consulting detective in the world cannot solve a case without all the pieces, just like not even the greatest mathematician could solve the simplest equation without all the variables."

"We're going to need all the video logs, the unedited versions of them." Silbhé stated next. "And if there is anything else you know and haven't told us. It's been long enough, I think it's time we find Dr. Foster and bring her home."

No one contradicted her again. Maybe they'd realized they weren't going to win… maybe they just didn't care anymore. Still, Maria Hill just seemed to have some kind of need to have the last word in…

"Does he not care at all?" She asked John. "Your partner? About people?"

"You know, I asked him that once." He admitted quietly. "I didn't know him as well as I do now, of course. We were having a hell of a case and the whole thing was driving me crazy. And I asked him if he cared about people at all. He asked me if that would help save them, and since the answer was not, then he would continue not to make that mistake." There were gasps in answer to that statement, but John wasn't done just yet. "I know now he lied. Truth is Sherlock Holmes cares, too much for his own good sometimes. His brother…" He looked at Serrure. "His other brother, Mycroft, told me once that Sherlock had the mind of a philosopher and yet he chose to be a detective, he wondered what I thought that said about him. I didn't know back then, but now I do. Sherlock cares so much about people he wants to help them, not in the way most of us would help others, like helping children get back on their feet, or old people with their groceries or crossing their streets… no, Sherlock wants to help people by using his mind, his incredibly gifted mind, to do things he knows no one else could do. He could spend all his time researching, running experiments, working for the best companies, or even on his own, out of his money… instead he solves crimes, most of the time for free. He saves victims of kidnapping, gets killers and all sorts of criminals behind bars, gives mourning families the closure of knowing that those who hurt their loved ones are paying for what they did."

No one knew quite what to say to that.

"And you know what I find even more fascinating?" John said in the last moment, right before leaving the bridge. "Sherlock cares so much, he would have jumped off the rooftop at St. Bart's, really jumped, for me. Because he loved me, more than his own life. So, when you ask if he really doesn't care, I can only hope one day you might stop being so blind. Sherlock Holmes is the most amazing man I've ever known…"

Nothing more was said, nothing more needed to be said.

"You make choices." Silbhé Arianna's voice was unexpected, as were her words, and yet no one could do anything but listen. "Choices that affect the lives of other people. And you think you have the right to make them, because of the position you hold in this organization, because of great deeds you've done in the past, because you think you know best… truth is, you don't. You might be older than most of us in this room, but that doesn't make you any better. It only means you've lived longer. And even then, what are years? What's a lifetime really? There's more to us than the years our bodies have lived, so much more…"

She cut herself off then, though more than one person suspected there was more she might have wanted to say, yet she didn't dare to. Maybe one day she'd share it.

It had been such a long day, and it wasn't over by half. They still had a relic to find, and to that had been added a missing astrophysicist; hopefully she'd be the missing piece that would allow the case to be solved… Loki and his beloved match both had the feeling that they were running out of time.

So much had changed in a moment, and yet more things were still coming, and there was no way of knowing what might happen before the end. Like Sherlock had said: the Game was on!

* * *

So, how did you like it? So much of this chapter wasn't planned... or at least, it wasn't planned for it to happen yet. I was originally saving the whole Jane-reveal for the third part (and I cannot help but wonder what you all think about that part...), Silbhé's own revelation was going to be the closing of this one, until I realized that the chapter would be too short if I cut it off when they meet Thor and then as I kept writing that confrontation it just kept getting longer and longer, and more people getting involved. I'd planned the things with Skye (I'm trying out something), but Sharon was a complete surprise, even for me (I think I decided to do that about three days ago).

John's speech about Sherlock wasn't planned either, but I couldn't not write once we got to that point. I think it's important, just like I wanted to explain why John called Sherlock his colleague on the bank...

I really hope you think Silbhé is too much on this one... I'm trying to make her bad-ass but still believable. I mean, yeah, she's fought two Black Widows, but she didn't really defeat either one of them, and they were holding back (one way or the other), even the implications that she could have won, she was depending completely on magic, as a full human she'd have never managed (it wouldn't be logical, with her size and history). Also, John deserved to be the one to pull the trigger! And I just love when he goes all protective...

One more piece and then we're done with this part (it's coming in two weeks). And since I haven't written a single word... you've free to make requests! Also, for those interested, the second and final part of Come Back to Me is coming next week! See ya!


	3. Fight

While it wasn't in the original plans, in the end I did include Skye's powers, so check out for that if you don't know at least the basics of that (things didn't happen like in the series, but that will be explained in the chapter itself).

So this is my spin of the chitauri invasion with Jane Foster in Selvig's place and the whole insane family that are the Holmeses involved!

Also, does anyone want to now what really happened in Sweden?

Read on then!

* * *

 **Fight**

There always comes a time when you have to fight for those you love.

Silence was absolute, most likely because the shock at what we were seeing was so great neither of us could find the right words to express it. In a screen before us were the last few minutes of security footage from inside the facility in the south, before the whole place had pretty much sunk into an awful hole. Minutes that none of us had so much as known existed until then. Minutes that showed a Dr. Jane Foster approaching the odd-looking device holding the Cube, pulling it out with help of some tongs and gloves even as all personnel behind her keeps running around like headless chickens. She places the Tesseract safely into a small, seemingly specially designed briefcase before moving to leave. Something seems to almost implode where the Cube had been and the earthquake gets exponentially worse in seconds, people are running all around. Dr. Foster is about to leave when she stumbles into an older man, who begins asking her questions until his eyes lay of the briefcase and on her, her face… he begins to say something but before he can finish Foster is hitting him on the head, knocking him out. She then drags him into a nook somewhere, and they can all see, on the edge of the camera, as she mouths a few simple words: " _I'm sorry, you'll be safe here._ " Then she's gone.

The recording ended instants after that, as the shaking seemingly got bad enough to collapse most of that area, taking out the cameras.

A couple of seconds passed, and the same thing occurred to all Holmeses at the same time:

"We need to find that man." The twins said in unison.

"Dr. Erik Selvig." Skye began reading from the file she'd pulled up. "Astrophysicist, used to work at Culver University before being recruited by SHIELD. He seems to be Dr. Foster's old mentor. According to his file he was called into Project Pegasus back in 2012 or so. He wanted to bring Dr. Foster with him from the start, but SHIELD wasn't interested, didn't much believe in her theory concerning Einsten-Rosen bridges and the possibility of other worlds until…" She snorted at what she read next. "Until 2015 and the Convergence." She shook her head. "Suppose the laws of physics going wonky all around would make them change their minds about the truth of her theories; and, of course, the arrival of an actual alien…"

I knew she hadn't been there for that one, though she had been for the aftermath. It was how Mycroft and Sherlock first met her. The rest of us did not know her until a while later.

"Does it say anything about whether he survived the collapse of the facility or not?" Sherlock inquired, he really seemed to want to talk to him.

"It doesn't say anything in his file but…" She typed frantically for a minute or so. "The report of the rescue crews have detailed descriptions of every person they dug out, with special notes for those who were still alive. One of those descriptions fits Dr. Selvig."

"Where is he now?" My love made the question that time.

We all had our suspicions about what the answer would be, Skye included; however, before she could confirm or deny anything something happened, which made her stop her speed-typing abruptly and curse.

"They're blocking me." She informed the rest of us.

"SHIELD knows you've been hacking them." John said, unnecessarily.

"Oh they knew a while ago." Skye answered dismissively. "Probably ever since I downloaded that video; but they hadn't actually been able to stop me until now." She shook her head. "Not that it changes much, I think we all have drawn the same conclusions as to where Dr. Selvig is most likely to be now."

"A SHIELD hospital." I stated, it wasn't a question.

The men just nodded, agreeing completely with us.

The door opened right then and Sharon slipped in, looking like one engaging in subterfuge.

"Just to give you all a heads up guys." She said as she went to sit in the back of the room. "Fury and Hill are both on their way, and they don't look happy."

Not looking happy ended up being quite an understatement. Fury looked absolutely livid, while even Hill's usually unflappable demeanor was beginning to crack.

"I'm sure you know hacking into SHIELD is a crime that carries serious penalties." Hill states in her most condemning tone.

"You cannot touch her." Sherlock stated coldly.

"She's committed a crime." Hill insisted. "You might have negotiated diplomatic immunity, but she's still subject to our laws."

"No, she's not." My husband corrected, before pulling a plastic envelope out of somewhere and handing it to Skye.

There was no hesitation in the honey-haired young woman as she took it, pulling out its contents one by one, though I was quite sure she hadn't known about its existence. Everything was there: British passport, citizenship papers, new birth certificate, ID Card, driver's license, American visa, as well as a small card declaring her diplomatic immunity.

Almost no one knew it, but Mycroft had actually gone ahead and dealt with all the paperwork necessary to make Skye a Holmes since the offer was initially made. It'd been easy enough to slip the papers she needed to sign along with all the non-disclosure forms (due to what she'd done to help us during the Hunt); there had been so many papers that a time had come when she simply stopped reading and just kept signing.

After that it'd been even easier to include her name when the rest of us filed for diplomatic immunity. It hadn't been about taking the decision away from her. If she'd chosen never to take the Holmeses on the offer, no one would've ever known about those papers, they'd have never been… activated, so to speak. But she had taken the option, she'd chosen us. And we were in the habit of looking after our own.

"You cannot touch her." I couldn't help but add for good measure.

Fury's mood just got worse after that; yet he knew there was definitely nothing he could do. He was the one who'd made the deal with Mycroft after all, he'd agreed to the diplomatic immunity from the start. He obviously just hadn't realized how far it would go…

"So, it's official then?" The hacker asked quietly. "I am a Holmes?"

"Skye Daisy Linda Holmes." Sherlock stated formally. "It's the name you chose, isn't it?"

"Yes." She nodded more than actually said the word, and I could practically see the knot lodged in her throat.

She'd explained it to us once: she was Daisy for her father, as that was the name he'd chosen for her upon birth; Linda for the woman who sacrificed everything, even her own life, to keep an unknown baby safe from dangers she didn't truly understand; and Skye for herself, for that was who she chose to be.

"Then I suppose it's time for these to go." She announced with a deep breath, as she proceeded to methodically un-strap and then pull off her fingerless gloves.

None of us said a word, just watching as she began flexing her hands, as if getting used to the lack of the gloves. Few knew it, but those gloves had been more than just part of her attire, or a fashion ensemble, they served a purpose…

"So there's a reason for those gloves!" Sharon cried out. "Many of us have wondered, you know? Never understood why you wouldn't take them off…"

"They're meant to be a tool, of sorts, you could call them a safety-net." It seemed like not even Skye could explain it right.

"What for?" Sharon was really intrigued.

"Point your gun at me and I'll show you." The younger woman offered.

The blonde didn't even hesitate, immediately pulling out her second gun (the one that wasn't SHIELD issue and which she hadn't dropped somewhere on the bridge when choosing to switch sides for his brother). She didn't bother pulling the safety, waiting.

Skye looked straight at her even as she raised her right hand, purposefully moving it in a small arch before her. The effects were instantaneous, as the gun fell into pieces.

"Wow…" Sharon was absolutely shocked.

"How did you do that?" John asked almost at the same time.

The two of them were the only ones who'd never seen her use her abilities. Us Holmes had seen her, once, during a case, back before John had joined Sherlock. It'd been a tricky one, we hadn't known it at the time, but our dearest consulting detective had gotten involved in SHIELD business, the murder suspect having actually been a 'person of interest' for said organization. An enhanced… SHIELD's investigation had been so top-secret even Mycroft hadn't known and Rose's powers back then had been still too new, too volatile to get a warning in time. If it hadn't been for Phil's team's intervention, and especially for Skye taking the risk and using her power before our brother, we might have lost him that night.

And, of course, afterwards he'd refused to just forget what he'd seen. Phil had tried to exercise some sort of authority over the detective, which didn't go over well. Until they both realized Sherlock didn't care for revealing Skye's secret to anyone, he just wanted to know himself (his curiosity was actually killing him). Things had actually gotten worse before they got better; or so I heard, as my husband and I never actually got the full story. But at some point distrust had given way to acceptance, and then an odd friendship.

After learning that Skye was gifted Sherlock had apparently asked permission to share that information with someone he trusted completely and who might be able to help. And so my love and I'd come into the picture. The rest, as some would say, was history.

"Vibrations." Skye answered calmly as she took a seat. "You see, everything in the world vibrates in a way, and I'm not talking only about living beings, I mean everything: animals, plants, people, objects, the very elements. They all have their own vibration and I can sense them, I can almost hear them… and the most important part, I can manipulate them. With your gun, I made each piece vibrate so hard it fell apart, I can make the very air vibrate enough to push objects or people, as if I'd bodily thrown them off…" she made a pause before adding, very quietly. "I once made part of a mountain vibrate hard enough to cause an avalanche…"

"And the gloves?" John asked.

"AC… Agent Coulson had them made for me, by a scientist friend of his, they help release the excess energy created by my powers, when I don't want to use them, or when I'm doing delicate work." Skye explained. "Fine control is hard, especially when I'm emotional, so it helps refine what I'm doing. And on the former… when I first got my powers, they would act up whenever I got the slightest bit emotionally. It got quite destructive. I tried to hold back, until we realized that I wasn't actually stopping the vibrations, but turning them inwards instead, it got so bad I collapsed one day, multiple hairline fractures on both my arms and collarbones… thankfully I learnt to control it, things got better after that."

Her words brought painful memories sharply into focus, of a foreign hotel, a supposedly private conference room, a stained glass window shattering into pieces, screams, blood, and a broken body laying on the sidewalk three floors down.

"SHIELD doesn't know, do they?" Sharon asked quietly, even as she looked around, wondering if the younger woman had given herself away already.

"We're safe here." Sherlock stated, deducing what John's sister was thinking. "We made sure they wouldn't be able to spy on us here."

"No, they don't know." The honey-haired finally answered the question. "If they did they'd have insisted on putting me in the Index, keeping me monitored. I'd definitely not be a high-ranked field-agent and… well, considering some things that happened a few years ago, they'd have probably carted me off to the Fridge or the Sandbox a long time ago…"

She didn't go into any further detail but, she didn't really need to, not where I was concerned at least. In that moment I couldn't help but remember a conversation I'd had with Rose, when she was just five years old…

 _Serrure was in Scotland for a case, high-profile enough MI5 had insisted on keeping a bodyguard near at all times. He wouldn't have needed it, but had no way of explaining that; still, because of the agents keeping close guard on him it'd been impossible for him to return home for the night (which was what he usually did when he'd to go away on business)._

 _The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that the touch on my arm was several degrees above normal human temperature instead of lower (my husband's usual); the second thing I notice was that it was too late (or early, depending on point of view) to be up. Then, as my brain finished waking up I noticed my little girl, curled up against me, head cradled on my chest._

" _Rosie…?" I asked, confused, even as my body followed my natural mothering instincts and I began running a hand through my baby's hair, hoping to sooth her._

" _Bad dream mama…" She explained in a watery voice._

" _Did you dream of monsters?" I asked, expecting the usual._

" _Some monsters, but looked human." She answered slowly._

" _You know dreams aren't real, right?" I told her quietly. "Whenever you see something you don't like, or that makes you afraid, all you need to do is wake up and everything will be alright."_

" _Felt real mama." She insisted._

 _There was such conviction in her voice, especially for one so young, that I couldn't help but wonder on the possibility of that being true. Had I been a normal mother, dealing with a normal child I would have thought nothing of it. But I wasn't normal, and neither was she. She'd run at a higher temperature than humans from the moment of her birth, and at times her eyes would shift from chocolate brown to an odd but dazzling mix of red, orange and black… and there were times when the flame of candles, the stove or the hearth seemed to burn brighter and hotter in her presence. As if the fire called to her, or the other way around._

" _Were the monsters coming after you baby?" I asked, already considering all possibilities. "You know that your papa and I will do anything to protect you, right?"_

" _No, not me." She made a pause before explaining. "There was a girl, she's special, she can hear a song others can't, and when she makes that song louder, things monster wanted to hurt her, he was really, really bad…" She hiccupped. "But then her dad was there and he saved her, like all dads must, and he took her to the mom. And they were happy, but then something happened."_

 _Rose began sobbing into my chest, and my heart broke a little at the sound; I wanted to hold her tight, to never let go, to promise her everything would be alright… but I knew that would be a lie, and one my little girl would see right through, and she wouldn't appreciate it. Also, an instinct inside told me I needed to hear the rest, that one day it would be important…_

" _The mom got really angry, and she screamed a lot. She wanted to hurt people, but the girl doesn't wanna, and the mom got really, really angry and she screamed at her daughter, and it was like she no longer loved her and it's so sad…" Rose sobbed. "And then the bad man, the monster, came and attacked the mom, tried to kill her. But she's special too, she could heal… but to do that she needed something, and she wanted to get it from the girl, even if that meant she dies! She was going to kill her daughter! But then the dad was there, he promised to protect the girl, from everyone, even the mom…" She wailed, too horrified to even say the next part, though it was fairly obvious. "The mom is dead, and the dad is dying, because what makes him strong also hurts him, and no one can save him. And the monster is still there. And the girl just lost her mom and dad and she's so sad and so angry and she's screaming!"_

Months later, after a number of dreams and 'feelings' we'd come to realize the truth: Rose was a seer. And yet it'd taken me all these years to realize that it'd been that dream, that awful dream that so hurt my dearest daughter that was his first True Vision. A vision about Skye, her dead parents, the man/monster who had attacked them all, and whom she'd killed in return.

A great need filled me in that moment, a need to hug my little girl, my Rosie, to comfort her again like I had that night. And also a need to hug Skye, to offer the comfort no one did when she lost so much in a single day: her dad, her mom twice over, and her own innocence… and yet I could do neither, so I just sat there, arms wrapped around my own torso to keep myself in check. Then I felt it, the warmth and peace only magic could give, a 'magical embrace', as Rose called them. My match had felt my distress, and probably the cause behind it as well, we were so tightly bound together it was sometimes hard to tell where one of us ended and the other began… in that moment it was perfect.

*It'll be alright, my Nightingale.* My beloved whispered straight into my mind. *She has us now, the little cloud will never be alone again…*

No, she wouldn't. We all would make sure of that.

 **xXx**

Everyone noticed the moment Skye began walking around the helicarrier in an attire totally different from what had become her usual in her years as an official SHIELD Agent (for the first year or so she'd been just a consultant). Gone were the black tactical jumpsuits, instead she was dressed in dark jeans, loose tops (mostly shades of blue and purple, as they were her favorite), a black leather jacket and black boots to match; her wavy honey-brown hair to the middle of her back, loose rather than in the usual tight ponytail. The gloves were gone too (though only Phil Coulson and her new family knew what that meant). Her hip was only empty for about half a day, when FitzSimmons presented her with a new ICER gun, just for her (they had gotten Coulson's permission), instead of it bearing the SHIELD logo, as the rest did, the initials SDLH were engraved on the handle.

Sharon by contrast was still wearing tactical clothes, though without the SHIELD insignia. She'd put her personal gun back together (after the little experiment with Skye's power) and John had given her one of his backup guns (on Mycroft's insistence they were carrying several, just in case). Also, unknown to her, the brothers were planning a surprise, though she wouldn't be finding out just yet.

Eventually we all got what we wanted, a chance to talk to Erik Selvig, though it was just a video-call and heavily supervised on both sides. Fury refused to either take us (or at least Sherlock and John) to the secret hospital where the doctor was being kept, or to get the man to the helicarrier. I strongly suspected he'd done that for no other reason than because he could; an attempt to show his power and authority after the confrontation on the bridge had gone so wrong. It probably hadn't helped that my husband had 'relieved him' of the photograph at the first opportunity, and when confronted with the fact he'd explained the picture did not belong to him, it didn't have him, and hadn't been sent to him, thus, he had no right to it.

A part of me couldn't help but wonder if Fury had ever really cared for the image in the Polaroid, or if all along it'd been about who had last held it, who it was meant for… Just what had been his relationship with aunt Kathryn? I didn't know, and while a part of my mind told me it meant nothing, made no difference; there was a part that wondered if he'd loved her, perhaps he even did still. Maybe he mourned her loss… still, it really didn't change anything, Aunt Kathryn was still dead and we were each left to our own regrets (whatever his might be).

In any case, we spoke to Dr. Selvig, who confirmed what he'd begun to suspect, Dr. Foster was being manipulated by an outside force. Someone with enough power to push her into stealing the Cube and abandoning dozens of scientists and other personnel to their luck in a facility already on the brink of collapse; and yet not enough that she hadn't been able to stop long enough to make sure her one friend in the place had a good chance at survival. They still didn't know who it was doing the manipulation, and if it had been of the persuasion kind, blackmail, or magical… though one thing Selvig told them stuck with them.

" _Her eyes changed." He told them. "They've always been brown, dark, but in that moment they were bright blue, almost the same shade as the Cube…"_

None of us were quite sure what that was supposed to mean, but it was a point towards the 'magical manipulation', possibly even control, theory.

Of course, Fury didn't believe us. He was so quick to accept the idea that one of their own had betrayed them, that a human might be betraying our whole planet; but he, for some reason, couldn't believe that she might be an innocent, manipulated by a stronger force. For a leader of an international organization specializing in espionage and protecting humanity from dangers most weren't even aware of, Nicholas Fury liked absolutes too much: good and bad, light and dark, hero and villain, white and black… it was no wonder he didn't get along with any of us. Didn't change how things were though, and that was one thing he was going to have to deal with, eventually, we all would.

On the positive side, the change in tactics paid off, we found Dr. Foster…

"She's where…?" They were all quite shocked, and with due reason, though Hill was the one to voice the question in the end.

"Somewhere north of Willowra, in the Northern Territory of Australia." Dr. Banner stated, reading off the map in his tablet.

"That sounds like the fuck end of nowhere." Clint blurted crassly.

"Pretty much." Skye agreed, not bothered at all by his language. "I checked, there's nothing there, aside for the fact that it's around one end of the Lander river… and if you ask me that's the only reason anyone might live around that place at all, considering it's smack in the middle of the Australian desert."

"How middle-of-nowhere are we talking about?" Coulson asked, curious.

"Extremely." Skye replied, apparently knowing where he was going with the question. "According to what demographic maps I could find, there are less than two people per square mile in more than half of that country, particularly the desert…"

"We were right…" The words were out of my mouth before I could think too much about them. "She's helping us…"

For a heartbeat there was absolute silence, and then…

"Helping?!" Hill snorted derisively. "Dr. Foster stole an ancient relic from a SHIELD facility…"

"Which you had no right to be playing with…" Sherlock muttered under his breath, if anyone heard him no one replied to his words.

"She's at least partially responsible for the deaths of over eighty people in those facilities and…" The Deputy Director was on a roll.

"And stop right there." My beloved cut her off decisively. "You cannot hold Jane Foster responsible for your own fuck-ups. It's quite clear to anyone with a modicum of intelligence who's watched the security logs that the place was falling down on your ears before Dr. Foster so much as touched the Tesseract. Matter of fact, she might have saved many lives. At the very least her actions prevented the destruction from being much worse; which would have happened if the Cube had remained where it was, the energy inside it worsening the explosion exponentially."

No one seemed to know how to respond to that.

"You said she was helping us?" Agent May inquired, thoroughly confused.

"Yes." Sharon nodded seriously. "There is that. But before we get into that, there's something else you need to understand. We believe Dr. Foster is not entirely acting of her own free will. We think she's being coerced."

"Blackmailed?" Sitwell asked, in an entirely too disbelieving tone.

"More like controlled." John corrected calmly. "Mind-controlled, to be precise."

"Mind con…" Hill echoed, almost spluttering.

"Is such a thing even possible?" Coulson asked before Hill could say anything else.

"Yes, though for the most part it's not easily done." My husband stepped in with the explanation. "The better known methods require magic so strong and dark I would have sensed it instantly, no matter where in this realm it was used. So it cannot be that. Aside from that I know of two ways: One is a magical ability only one person in all 9 Realms is known to possess. Lorelai is the younger of the Enchantress sisters and can sort-of hypnotize men to follow her will. It's made some call her Siren. In any case, she's the only one able to do it, and her gift only works with unmatched men…"

"Unmatched…?" There were several confused by the new term.

"He means those that are not committed, body, mind and soul, to their perfect match." I explained in as few words as I could. "It's a higher form of marriage, unbreakable by any force, either of an individual, space, time, or even death…"

By the looks Thor directed my way I knew he suspected our status (he wasn't subtle at all). I didn't care, it's not like I was ashamed of my love and devotion for my Maverick. In any case, there was no need for any of them to know about Sherlock's and John's similar status.

"As I was saying." My beloved took over. "The only remaining option there is the use of a relic, similar to the Tesseract, called the Mind Gem."

"Another Infinity Stone, br…" Thor could barely keep himself from calling my Maverick, brother, he'd realized already my love did not like it. "Are you sure?"

"It's the only possibility that makes sense." Loki nodded, ignoring the blonde's near-slip. "And, considering there's already one Stone in play, why not two?" He shook his head. "In any case, that's not the part we need to focus on. This method of control, according to what I read once in the Old Archives, tends to be absolute; though some details can come to depend on the raw power and the will of both the manipulator and the victim. Also, some form of initial contact was needed for the 'bond' of sorts to be created."

"We've kept close watch over Dr. Foster since she began working in Project Pegasus." Hill stated, almost offended. "We wouldn't have missed her meeting with someone."

"That might be true, but the contact didn't necessarily come that way." My Maverick was trying to explain, though I sense he'd trouble explaining all his thoughts.

It couldn't be easy, trying to explain things that had taken him years to study, in a matter of minutes, to a bunch of people that didn't have his understanding of magic, relics, or even how vast the universe actually was. Still he was trying, very hard, because he knew how important it was that they all knew, and understood.

"When was the first time the Tesseract acted up?" I asked, a sudden idea occurring to me. "Something serious, maybe a small, uncontrolled portal?"

"How do you even know something like that happened before?" Sitwell demanded.

I rolled my eyes but ignored him for the most part, waiting for the answer to my question.

"Three years after the Convergence." Fury answered after what seemed like forever. "There was a burst of energy and a half-formation of some sort of vortex that was never fully explained."

"Was Dr. Foster in the room when this happened?" My theory took shape as my questions got the needed answers.

"Right in front of the vortex." Fury didn't even try to be evasive anymore. "Some of the uncontrolled energy hit her when it all sort-of imploded. Sent her back a couple of feet, knocking her out. We had the best doctors check her over, do all sorts of tests, she was alright, nothing had happened at all."

"Nothing that you could detect…" The 'twins' murmured at the same time, having caught up with my line of thought.

"You think she's been under mind-control for that long?" May asked, half-disbelieving, half-horrified. "But that would mean… that's five years!"

"We don't even know for sure that she's being mind-controlled." Hill insisted.

"Yes, because the idea that a woman betrayed all her co-workers, family, friends, her principles and even her own race is entirely more believable than the possibility that she's being used as a puppet by a much more powerful entity." I practically snapped.

I might not have known Jane Foster, but I just couldn't wrap my head around the possibility, not with the things I did know about her.

"The clues are all right there." Sherlock began ranting. "Though, as is usual, you people see but do not observe. Dr. Foster takes the relic, escapes the destruction easily; and yet she stops to make sure Dr. Selvig is as safe as possible. She was in Stuttgart, stealing iridium in order to create a new portal, and yet no one ended dead. It might have even made things easier, leaving no one to report the theft, but still, no one died or ended permanently hurt in any way."

"That wasn't the only theft." Stark intervened unexpectedly. "I didn't want to say anything until I was convinced it was related to this. Pepper told me someone had stolen one of the commercial arc-reactors."

"An arc-reactor…?" Captain Rogers repeated, seemingly not-quite understanding.

"The greatest source of fully non-contaminating, green energy in this world." Stark announced proudly. "And I'm not lying. I have one powering Stark Tower in New York, another the mansion in Malibu, Stark industries right there in Malibu, as well as the branches in Minnesota, Virginia, Barcelona and Monaco." He made a pause before adding. "We are close to opening a new branch actually, in Queensland, Australia. Hadn't even activated the arc-reactor there… that was the one that got stolen. Again, no loses."

"What does your technology have to do with anything Stark?" Fury demanded gruffly.

"It will provide the energy needed to kick-start the Cube." Banner offered.

"So that's it." Clint said. "This is really happening, in fucking-Australia of all places?!"

"That's the other point we're trying to make." John drawled.

"Dr. Foster's is arranging for the portal to be opened in the middle of a desert, with an average of 1.5 people per square mile." Sherlock went on. "A soldier, an enemy, would seek to open it in the middle of a highly populated city: Malibu, New York, those would work. Opening it in the middle of the Australian desert allows the enemy to be fought, and stopped without putting civilians in danger."

"They don't even need to ever know something happened." Natasha realized.

"She's trying to keep casualties to a minimum…" Coulson murmured in realization.

"Didn't you just say she's being mind-controlled?" Sitwell demanded. "I very much doubt that an enemy would want to help us!"

"You're making me repeat myself, I hate repeating myself." Sherlock practically whined. "I've told you before that she was mostly acting against her will. Which means that some of her actions are by her own choice. Like protecting Selvig, not killing anyone in Stuttgart or in Queensland, or setting up the upcoming portal in the middle of nowhere."

"So what, the control is weakening?" Rogers asked, confused.

"Either that, or her will is getting stronger." My love pointed out. "It's been five years and while at first she might have been accepting of the force guiding her actions, as it was allowing her to move forward in her research, learning new things, achieve her own goals… that's all changed now. A part of Dr. Foster knows that, as long as she continues down the path she's going right now, people will die, so she's trying to make it harder for our enemies to win. She might not be able to fully oppose whoever is controlling her, but she's trying."

"Trying very hard…" I might not have proof of that, but I did not doubt it either. "We better do our part and stop what's coming."

"What are we waiting for then?" Stark called, almost cheerily. "We're going to Australia!"

 **xXx**

Before the helicarrier left the North Atlantic, where the fortress we were all holed in had been floating since the whole disaster began (it was believed to be safer than any ground base, especially when they had no way of knowing where and when the next attack would come); we received a couple of new arrivals. Two men that practically jumped off a military plane and onto the landing pad on top of the carrier. Two men all the Holmeses (except the newest one) recognized in an instant.

"James! Alec!" John called brightly in greeting. "What a surprise. What brings you here?"

"Mycroft explained what you're planning and M agreed to give us… a couple of days off, so to speak, so we could join you in the upcoming fight." Alec explained calmly.

"You do realize that what's coming is nothing like the missions we've done in the past?" John asked, very seriously. "This is no covert infiltration or assassination. We're pretty much heading to war…"

"I thought the purpose was to avert war." James quipped.

"The point remains the same." John insisted. "This isn't your kind of thing…"

"What you seem to be forgetting here, John, is that I was already a fighter before I became an agent, just like you." James said with a mix of chastisement and soothing. "Contrary to popular belief, I did not make it to Commander of the Royal Naval Reserve just for my pretty face." There were a few snorts, but no denial. "And Alec has been practically trained to fight his whole life, so that's no excuse with him either."

"Very well." John nodded stoically, holding back his own fears. "I will not do you the disservice of doubting you." He took a deep breath. "However, you better not die out there, do you hear me? Or I swear I'll make you regret it."

No one commented on how it would be impossible to make them regret anything if they were already dead, they weren't planning on doing that anyway (And it's not like they knew the kind of connections John had, it paid being uncle to the Queen of the Dead).

"Agent Carter…" Alec called gallantly, turning his whole attention to the blonde woman.

"I'm afraid you have it wrong, I'm not an agent anymore mister…" She didn't actually know the tall blonde's name.

"Alec Trevelyan, also known as 006, at your service my fair lady." He said, quite theatrically, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

"Before you think of doing anything untoward, let me tell you that's my sister you're trying to seduce, Alec." John stated with fake anger.

"Really?" That one seemed to surprise him. "Why then was she working for the American government? We could have been having so much fun…"

"Alec!" Several voices called, fake-scandalized.

"As interesting as your poor attempts at seduction are, 006…" Sharon began, in a drawl.

"Attempts?!" Alec practically spluttered in only half-pretend indignation. "You wound me, my beautiful agent…"

"I told you already, I'm not an agent anymore." She insisted.

"Yeah, about that…" He patted at his pants pockets (front and back), then at his jacket, before finally finding what he was looking for in the left inside pocket of his jacket. "Here."

He threw the small square object at Sharon, who caught it reflexively, and then stared. The object was actually a badge… for the MI6… with her name on it: Sharon Margaret Carter Watson… She was officially an MI6 Agent.

 **xXx**

A number of hours later (I wouldn't know how many exactly), the helicarrier stopped somewhere in the South Pacific in between Australia and New Zealand. Teams formed, of those who would be going down to the desert to fight. There were two teams of SHIELD Agents, one lead by Maria Hill and Felix Blake, and the other by Melinda May and Grant Ward (who still wasn't talking to Skye). Coulson, for his part, would be joining the Avengers Initiative, the Aesir, and us in the third quinjet (it was easier that way, since none of us quite fit with the too-orderly and duty bound Agents of SHIELD.

"Before we land we really need to discuss something…" Hawkeye began saying, even as he kept piloting the quinjet.

"No we don't." Black Widow, his co-pilot, contradicted him. "It's really none of our business."

"It really should be, if they're expecting us all to fight together." Fandral piped in.

There was silence, as practically everyone turned to look at him.

"Come on!" He cried out. "We're all thinking it!"

"Fandral's right." Sif agreed grimly. "I don't feel quite comfortable fighting alongside Loki, but I'll do it, because it's necessary. And at least I know he has some ability as a Warrior, however his mortal wife…"

I couldn't help it, I rolled my eyes. To think that she was calling me mortal in an attempt to make me less. It's not like I didn't know what I'd been born as, or had ever been ashamed of it; and, I suppose she couldn't have known that I wasn't just a mortal anymore…

"You've seen me fight." I pointed out calmly. "You've all seen me spar more than once. And if long-distance is a concern, I'm pretty decent with throwing knives and I can call on Loki's magic if it's necessary."

"We've seen you train, under controlled circumstances." Fandral insisted. "Actual battle is nothing like that. You've no idea."

I rolled my eyes, wondering what he would say if I were to describe the battles buried in my mind, the memories of a time long past… he probably wouldn't believe, and it's not like that part was really important in that moment.

"I know." I replied, trying to keep a level tone.

"You don't understand…" Sif insisted.

Her tone was so full of condescension, I snapped.

"I said I know!" I practically snarled at her. "I've really no idea how you call yourselves Warriors, Spies, Heroes, and yet are so painfully blind."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Rogers asked, testily, probably not liking that I was making a generalized comment/accusation like that.

"Do you really think I could have possibly been involved in an operation as big and complex as the Hunt for Moriarty's web and never been in any actual confrontation myself?" I asked, my voice only hinting at the challenge inside me. "I know you all let yourselves be distracted by my titles of Lady, ambassadorial aid and interpreter when we first met, but you cannot possibly tell me you still haven't realized the truth."

"You used your position to get yourself where the others would need help." Stark stated, in a tone that made it obvious it wasn't a question.

Coulson just nodded and I let out a sigh, at least there were two people who weren't complete idiots in the group (aside from my family, of course).

"What does that have to do with anything?" Hawkeye demanded, hotly.

He still wasn't getting it, most of them weren't. It was then that I decided I was going to have to do something I really hadn't wanted to. There were pieces of my past I didn't like remembering, much less sharing. Far as I was concerned the people who needed to know, did so already, everyone else could stuff it. However, I needed the people in that jet to trust me, at least for the upcoming battle; and I knew they wouldn't if they weren't sure I had been 'battle tested', so to speak. Which mean I would have to talk about… that.

"Sweden." I spat, the word tasting almost like vinegar in my own tongue.

I hated even thinking about it, and they were forcing me to explain it…

"Nightingale…" My love murmured, both of his hands on my shoulders, showing his support, he could feel how hard it all was for me.

In seconds the rest of the family was assembled on my sides. Even if not all of them had been present at the time, even if one of them only knew what had happened from third hand accounts and another hadn't the slightest idea… they still stood by me. Our family, united.

"I'm sure everyone here, or at least everyone human, knows already that things happened in Sweden that never made it into any of the official reports." I began, focusing on every word coming out of my lips. "It was fodder for every conspiracy theorist in the continent, the missing pieces in the story, and the parts that did not match…"

"The basics are quite true, however." John, seeing how hard it all was for me, decided to step in and help me a bit. "Four terrorists broke into a hotel in Stockholm, where a meeting of world leaders was taking place. The topic was human rights and one of the points being discussed concerned the rights of the LGBT community… the homosexuals, bisexuals, and essentially anyone who doesn't subscribe to traditional preferences." He clarified for the Aesir. "The terrorists apparently had intended simply to take the people in the conference room hostage, hoping to be able to make demands of at least half a dozen different countries, including the UK, Germany, Spain, France, among others. They hadn't known what was being discussed. They got very violent, very quickly, once they noticed…"

Of course the terrorists to take the place just had to be Russians, and homophobes of the worst kind… they'd already been our target, but their actions had only made things worse.

"As the records state, the local authorities lost control of the situation very quickly." Sherlock took over in his most blank manner. "They allowed a specialized security group to handle it, which allowed us to take control. A plan was made to take them all at once, hard and fast. It didn't work. When the leader began waving his gun around, way too close to the British contingent, he had to be taken down. By a sniper shot." He didn't explain it'd been John behind that rifle, they didn't need to know that. "Two more were close enough to the doors to be taken down by my team as they burst into the room. However, the fourth was too far away from us, and practically surrounded with all the hostages."

"He's the one that ended in the sidewalk." Black Widow interrupted coldly. "There was never anything conclusive in the reports about how that happened. Some of the witnesses said he was near the windows and tripped when the security forces tried to take him, others that he was pushed either intentionally or accidentally. However, some of the other reports place him more to the middle of the room, and there's no mention of him having moved before the security team burst into the room."

"That's because he didn't." I said, not quite recognizing my own voice. "He never moved."

"Then how…?" Rogers began, though a part of me thought he at least suspected the answer.

"I moved him." I said, almost too quietly to be heard. "I had a girl in my arms, a little redhead, so pretty…" so much like my own little Rose… "I think she was the daughter of someone in the Italian contingent, her mother had to take her along because she'd no one else. They made us sit in specific places, splitting the groups to make sure we wouldn't plan anything. That man… when he saw his leader fall he got angry, and when the other two were taken down… he knew he was next and reacted like any cornered animal, he lashed out. He went for the little girl in my arms… I was never going to allow that."

I didn't say anymore, I don't think I needed to. Though the scene was still playing with perfect, almost-too-bright clarity inside my head: the man's awful breath, his insults in Russian (which I'd learnt in recent years), the moment she had placed a hand on the child's arm, intent on drawing her away from me, using her as a human shield. She hadn't even screamed, only whimpered, like she was too terrified to even cry or fight back… and then came the sob from a woman across the room, the girl's mother, and I snapped.

If anyone saw me move, if anyone realized that as I waved my hands the man went flying, halfway across the room, straight into the window; the stained glass shattering into pieces and all of it falling five floors down and onto the sidewalk. If anyone saw it, they either blocked it from their minds or simply chose not to speak of it.

I never actually saw the body, though I'd heard more than enough from the reports and the news in the following months. I'd been asked questions in a number of interviews for a while. Still, no one had ever known what I'd done, until then.

"So, you see." I continued once I found my voice again. "That I don't like fighting, that I might not want to fight, doesn't mean I won't do it when I need to." I let the slightest hint of magic lace my words as I added. "I will do anything to protect my family…"

 **xXx 3** **rd** **Person POV xXx**

The battle plan was quite simple, as those with experience believed that allowed for less chances for things to go wrong. The group formed by the Avengers Initiative, the Aesir and the Holmeses would be taking point in the attack, with Agents May and Ward's team taking defensive duties. The other SHIELD team would be making sure there were no civilians nearby and creating a perimeter. It was important to make sure that whoever and whatever got through that portal would not get to any cities; the closest (actual city, as opposed to a territory or farm) which was Alice Springs (and even that was over eight hours away).

It wasn't long after SHIELD arrived, when the portal opened, like a hole that had just been punched into the sky, and then they began pouring out. Monsters… aliens, a lot more than they'd been expecting. They could only be thankful there were no innocents around.

"You know, I really don't think toy-guns are gonna do much against those guys." Agent Romanoff, the Black Widow, commented, looking at Skye from the corner of her eye.

"Who said anything about guns?" The younger woman quipped.

It took a second or two for most of those present to realize she wasn't talking about her gun, but about guns in general.

"You might want to hold onto something." She warned, before raising both arms and waving her arms sharply in the direction of the coming army.

Her family and Phil Coulson were the only ones who actually knew what was coming. Still, they could all do nothing but watch in absolute shock as the sand beneath their feet seemed to ripple. The aliens mounted on some odd flying chariots, leading the charge, seemed to crash against something before falling, and even the huge monstrosity that seemed to be some strange mix of a flying whale and a ship shuddered violently before collapsing half in pieces with a loud thud.

"Holy shit!" Clint Barton, Hawkeye, and Tony Stark, Iron Man, blurted practically in unison.

"What the hell was that?" A number of them could hear Hill's demanding voice over the comms.

"If she can do that, why isn't she in the Index?" Romanoff asked a moment later.

"Is this really the time to be discussing that?" Stark asked with a roll of his eyes, I mean, we still have an alien army coming at us.

"Just to leave the record clear, you're not putting our little sister in any Index." Sherlock spoke up. "She's a Holmes, and that means she's under our protection."

"She's also a British citizen, and not under your jurisdiction." John added for good measure.

"Guys!" Arianna/Nightingale called loudly. "Argue later, fight now."

"We need to find Dr. Foster." Serrure/Loki added for good measure. "She might be able to help us close the portal."

"Find her then." Coulson instructed. "The rest of us, we've still got an army to fight." She turned to the youngest member of the group. "Quake, how many more do you think you can take down like you did that one?"

"A few more." She nodded, shifting her muscles as if to test herself. "However, taking down those things won't help much in the long run. It's the aliens we need to kill."

"That's true, but it'll be a big help if you can take down the ships, that way we can limit their mobility, and their size." He pointed out.

"Understood AC!" she called brightly before turning to the coming enemy. "Lets dance!"

It was like a sort of dance, a very beautiful and also extremely deadly, sort of dance. By some sort of silent accord Sherlock, John and Sharon had taken formation around Skye, doing their best to keep her safe from most of the aliens while she focused on taking down the monsters. Which wasn't easy at all, especially when the enemies realized who it was that had the most power on that front. The Aesir did their part as well, and while none but Thor had any abilities that allowed them to do damage in the same range as Skye (whose codename was Quake), they each still packed quite a punch. The Avengers seemed to take it all as personal challenge and did their best to match the kind of damage the other groups were inflicting.

Loki and Nightingale, for their part, slipped away from the main fight, instead using their magic to try and track down Dr. Foster and the Tesseract. They couldn't fully avoid the aliens, Chitauri, as Loki said they were called, but they didn't focus on them more than absolutely necessary.

Arianna's voice on the comms, announcing that they had Dr. Foster was a huge boost to all the fighters. Thor was delighted to know his Lady Jane was safe, his friends followed in his lead, while the others knew that meant the portal would soon be closed.

Apparently they weren't the only ones that knew the battle was drawing to a close. Somehow the chitauri knew too, for abruptly a good number of them began turning around, heading back for the base-of-sorts where Dr. Foster, Loki and his match still were.

"Thor!" Coulson called loudly. "We need to stop the aliens before they get to the Tesseract!"

The blonde knew the kind of danger that would mean, not just for his lady, but also for his adopted brother, and his new sister…

"My friends!" He called loudly, before throwing himself back into the fight.

No one was quite sure how or why Sherlock ended on one of the flying chariots. John was the first who realized it, when he heard his husband's voice in the back of his mind, calling to him.

The telepathy was a pretty new development, it'd started just before Mycroft had informed them of Fury's 'request', and they were still getting used to it. However, it was something they both valued. The bond itself already allowed them to know, beyond a shadow of doubt, how much they loved each other, they could feel it inside. However, the telepathy took it one step further. The consulting detectives had known all along that was one perk of the bond they were unlikely to get, Serrure and Arianna had told them, because of them being human, it wasn't as easy. And yet, it was happening (it'd taken longer than with the other two, but still).

John really, really wanted to scream his husband's name in that moment, instead, he focused. Then began making plans.

"Hawkeye!" He called loudly.

The archer was by his side in an instant.

"I'm told you're a good shot." John began.

"The best." The agent smirked.

"There's no time for questions." John warned him. "When I give you the sign, I need you to shoot the leading chariot, blow it up."

"Ok, I can do that…" Hawkeye began, then seemed to notice something. "Wait a second, isn't that your husband driving that chariot?!"

"He is, he will get off in time." John answered dismissively. "I told you there was no time for questions. Are you ready for this?"

The archer decided it really wasn't his place. Much as he might think the duo were batshit crazy for even thinking something like that, much less doing it, it was their plan, and their lives. So he just clicked the right combination for an exploding arrowhead, then drew the bolt and got ready.

"You just give the sign, Doc." Hawkeye declared, ready.

Many things happened very fast, some might even claim they happened at the same time… Sherlock yelled his sister's name at the top of his lungs, even as he jumped off the chariot, a moment before his husband called for Hawkeye to shoot, at the same time he did the same with both guns. The chariot went up in flames, right in time for the explosion to catch several of the following chitauri, causing a chain reaction practically impossible to stop.

Skye had just hit the sandy ground with her heal, causing a small vibratory wave that killed one chitauri and made two more stumble, allowing Sharon to take them both down. The blonde woman was the only one still with her, though Coulson wasn't far; even with her 'official change of allegiances' he still considered her one of his own.

When she heard his brother call his name, Skye turned in the direction of the voice automatically, when she saw Sherlock falling, with nothing that might save him, she almost went hysterical. Except she knew there was no time for that, it was obvious her brother had made a plan, and he was counting on her to save his life (and she was going to wring his neck for putting that kind of responsibility on her shoulders without talking to her about it!).

"Is that Sherlock?" Sharon asked, half-confused, half-horrified.

Skye didn't answer, she couldn't focus on anything except what she was about to do. Something she had never done before; but had to in that moment, she couldn't fail, her brother was counting on her… So she stood, feet shoulder-width, looking straight up, at her falling brother, and then she began moving her hands, as if she were weaving things in the air. No one could see it (Loki, and maybe Nightingale would have been able to, but they weren't there), but Skye was making the air vibrate, one layer after another, in different levels. It was the most complex work she'd done ever, she only hoped it'd be enough…

Sharon and Coulson, knowing that what she was doing was important, and required her whole concentration, took it upon themselves to make sure nothing could get close to her.

Seconds passed, too fast and too slow at the same time, and then, instants before most would have expected the consulting detective to hit the sand violently, he instead seemed to hit something in mid-air (or more like, actual air), except he didn't end up splat, instead he bounced. With a wave of her hand, Skye vanished the first layer, then she waited for Sherlock to fall again. There was another bounce, though it was less intense than the first. Four times it happened and then, he reached the last layer. Only instead of going back up, he began sinking, slowly but surely, as if it were quicksand (or jell-o). He ended up half-sitting, half-sprawled on the sand, at Skye's feet.

The newest Holmes smiled brightly at him, full of pride and joy for all of two seconds, before collapsing unconscious. She was beyond exhausted, having taken her own gifts far past their limits. She'd probably end up sleeping for twenty-four hours straight… but that was alright, because she'd saved Sherlock. Her brother had put his life literally in her hands, and she'd saved him. She could deal with the consequences.

Around them the fighters had begun celebrating already, Sherlock climbing on that chariot had caused a good number of chitauri to go after him and then Hawkeye's and John's shot at it and the following explosion had made sure of destroying most of the remaining aliens. They didn't expect it would take much longer to get rid of the stragglers, especially as several of them noticed as the portal began to collapse upon itself.

"We won!" Fandral cried out loudly.

It was a cry that was taken on by many of those present.

The incredible moment of celebration however, was interrupted just seconds later by a blood-curling scream.

 **xXx Nightingale's POV xXx**

Finding Jane Foster was relatively easy. We all could see the beam of light keeping the portal open, which lead straight back to the Tesseract, where she obviously would be. We were right. There were a few chitauri around but not too many. They reacted to our arrival but it was easy for my match to distract them while I used all my stealth training and the advantage of my small size to slip behind the older woman and knock her out by pressing on a specific bunch of nerves (it was much easier than trying to take her down with a hit or anything else).

My Maverick was finished with his fight almost at the same time and his attention went to me immediately, as was usual.

"Well, part 1 of the plan is done." I told him with a smile. "Now all we need to do is wake up the good doctor and get her to tell us how to close the portal."

"It won't be easy, I don't think." My love warned me. "But if she has as much control as we think, then she must have built in a failsafe of some kind."

I nodded in agreement.

Still, Loki insisted on using his magic to make sure all trace of the mind-control was gone, before waking Dr. Foster himself. Meanwhile I took the chance to announce into the comms that we had the doctor and would be closing the portal as soon as possible.

It was actually quite easy, and at the same time not.

"The scepter works as a key." Jane Foster explained to us. "If you push it into the core of the energy beam the device is creating, it will cause the portal to collapse in on itself."

"And where's the scepter?" I could tell by my husband's tone that he was leery of the answer.

We both knew, instinctively we weren't going to like it. And we were right.

"The Other has it." Jane explained. "He's the one leading the chitauri."

"Other…?" I asked, confused. "Other what…?"

"Honestly, I don't know." The astrophysicist answered honestly. "He doesn't have an identity of his own, I don't think. I never really thought to ask…"

"And where is this Other…?" He began the next question.

We didn't get an answer, but there was no need for one. Somehow I saw the attack coming our way before my love did, just in time to put up a hurried shield. It didn't do much, but at least was enough to stop the initial attack and allow my love to get on his guard. It also called the horrid being's attention to me.

He really looked awful. The creature (for he really could be called nothing better than that) looked almost like a half-dried corpse, with some kind of armor or exoskeleton fused into his purple-gray skin, he was covered in something dark that resembled clothes and a cloak. He was also holding an intricately carved golden scepter with a shiny blue jewel cradled on the top, it was the Mind Gem.

Somehow, my earlier intervention made him decide to go for me first. He didn't move to attack me bodily, but instead pointed the scepter at me, except that instead of trying for a stab, he just pressed the point to my chest. I felt… like some kind of ripple, like a darkness crowding me, before being almost violently pushed back. It took me a second or two to realize that the scepter hadn't actually touched my skin, or even my clothes, instead it had hit straight on my pendant. It was the clash of the two magicks that I'd just felt.

He obviously wasn't expecting that, however, before I could think of anything to say or do, the creature grunted, before hitting me viciously with an arm, throwing me several feet away.

"Nightingale!" Loki cried out.

He wanted to rush to me, I knew he did, but he couldn't, because the Other was already onto him, and that was a fight he needed to win.

*I'm alright…* I whispered into his head very softly, holding back a wince.

I wasn't lying, not really. I was winded, and would probably have a number of bruises (I could practically feel them forming already), but I was pretty sure there were no broken bones and once I got my breath back and my head stopped spinning I would be getting back on my feet.

I think I might have lost myself for a while there, probably hit my head harder than expected. I didn't quite notice Jane Foster approaching me. From what seemed like one moment to the next she was there, kneeling beside me, checking me over.

"'m a'right…" I muttered, trying to shake the cobwebs off my head.

"You sound as if you were drunk." The doctor commented with a slight hint of amusement.

"Never been drunk in my life." I half-hissed, slowly regaining full use of my senses. "Never liked the taste of alcohol really."

So no, I'd never been drunk… but Jane wasn't exactly wrong either, as I soon found out. My body was reacting like that because, beyond any hit I might have taken to head (which couldn't have possibly addled me that much, with all the magic in the pendant protecting me) because I was, in a way, drunk in that moment… drunk on power, on my love's power.

Apparently the Other was powerful enough to push him into undoing all the blocks he usually put in his power (which had only grown in number and severity since we went 'into hiding', so to speak). So much power had filled him, so suddenly, that the sensation had taken us over. There's no way he could have handled so serious a fight while feeling like that so, in a defensive move, our bond had made it so I was the one to handle that side-effect.

Fortunately it didn't take me more than a few minutes to get used to the sensation of all that power running beneath m… our skin (truth was we'd been bound together so tightly for so long that there was no longer a difference between his and mine, it was always 'ours').

The battle taking place before us was enchanting in a way I knew not many could understand. But after seeing my love holding himself in check for so many years… it's not like he was truly limiting himself, not really. My husband had still gotten his share of mischief and plotting through the years. But he'd kept such tight control on his magic, not wanting that to be the thing that revealed our presence, and especially mine, to Asgard. I knew a part of him was taking great delight in letting his magic free like that, and so was I.

"Do you think he's paying any attention to us right now?" Jane Foster asked me very quietly.

"I don't think so, no." I knew he meant the Other. "Why?"

"I can get the Cube." She informed me, voice so low I almost couldn't hear her.

"You said you needed the scepter." I reminded her.

"That's the failsafe I programmed, yes." She nodded seriously. "To allow for anyone to shut down the portal. This is something only I can do."

"What is it?" I really couldn't understand.

"It's… it's hard to explain." She said. "I've been working with the Tesseract for more than seven years now and… I'm not sure how to put it in words… It's almost like it exists as more than just a relic, like there's a sort of consciousness inside the Cube, and it knows me."

That sounded beyond odd… though considering the life I lead I was quite willing to believe her.

"You can touch the Tesseract then?" I guessed.

"I can." She nodded. "I'm the only one who's ever been able to do that, without any protective gear. Very few people know I've done it, and no one really knows why but… I think… like I said, it's like the Tesseract knows me, and it likes me."

"Alright." I nodded, getting in my feet very slowly. "Lets do this."

It wasn't too hard to get to the device, not really. My Maverick and the Other were both quite busy fighting, so all we needed to do was make sure to stay out of their way.

It was until we got to the device that I realize what it was that had been bothering me. That Jane was able to touch the Tesseract directly, didn't mean the energy that was being created by the device wouldn't hurt her. Still, she never gave me the chance, before a single word left my lips she was thrusting her hands straight into the beam of light.

I could have screamed, only the reminder in the back of my head of the battle going on, stopped me. I could also see blood in the corner of Dr. Foster's mouth, she'd bitten her lip hard enough to bleed in order to keep herself from screaming in pain.

Those were several very long, extremely stressful seconds. For a breath or two I wondered if she might have been wrong, if we'd failed… and then Dr. Foster was stepping back, glowing Cube in her hands… her red, blistered hands.

She dropped to her knees, moaning quietly in pain.

"Can you put it down?" I asked her quietly. "So I can treat your hands?"

I didn't even think about announcing that we'd recovered the Tesseract. It didn't seem that much of a priority in that moment; and it would be obvious enough, once the others noticed the portal was closing. The Other had certainly become aware of it, judging by the sudden increase in the viciousness of his attacks against my match. And still, he managed to hold his own.

The moment Jane put the Cube down (though still on her lap) I pulled a crystal vial from inside my jacket, healing powder. I didn't give her time to ask any questions; though I think she might have been in too much pain to really think of any. Still, it was relatively easy to pour the pwder onto her hands, and once it began acting the doctor needed no prompting for me to turn her hands over so I could do the same on the back of them.

"Thank you…" she murmured quietly once it was done.

"No, thank you." I told her in return.

I couldn't help but wonder if she realized just how many lives had been saved over the last week (and the last seven years) through her actions. She probably didn't realize it, but for someone who wasn't a fighter at all, she'd done some pretty amazing things.

I was tilting my head to focus on the comm., to let Thor know his 'beloved Lady Jane' was safe and sound and with me (and I was ever so glad I wouldn't have to explain about her burning her own hands to recover the Tesseract), when something pulled my whole attention abruptly. I couldn't even process what was going on, nothing registered in my mind for a moment but one thing: pain, heart-tearing pain… I screamed.

I blacked out again for a few moments, and when I managed to focus once more I realized the rest of the family, as well as the Aesir and most of the Avengers were in the room. It took no time at all to realize what was happening, and with some effort I manage to half-walk, half-crawl to my husband, who was laying on the sand, bleeding heavily from a hole in his lower chest (just low enough that we knew his heart hadn't been torn apart).

The blood on the scepter, laying by his side, told me all I needed to know about what he'd been hurt with; the headless body of the Other also told its own story.

"Maverick…" I rasped, as I held onto his hand tightly.

Even then I could already feel his strength weakening, his hold on me not as strong as it should have been (as it could have been).

"Why is she even panting?" I heard one of the Warriors Three ask coldly somewhere behind me. "She's not the one with a hole in the chest."

"They're bound!" Sherlock snapped at him. "How many times will they have to say it for things to get through your thick skull? She can feel what he's feeling…"

Which also meant that if he died, so would I…

"Anything you can do John?" Sharon asked nervously.

"No." My brother-in-law admitted grimly. "I don't think there's anything human medicine can do for him…" As he said that he turned to look at me. "What you used the last time, when the other Black Widow shot him, can't you use it again?"

I reached into my jacket, only to pull out a single vial, an empty vial…

Behind me I could hear Jane sob hysterically, probably realizing what was going on.

"What does that mean?" Sharon demanded, not understanding. "What was in that vial?"

"Healing powder, made from healing stones…" I realized it a second later and turned sharply to face the Aesir. "One of you has healing stones on you?!"

They didn't, I was about ready to fall into despair. It was so hard not to let the pain pull me down, but I knew that if I surrendered to it, then both of us would die, and I couldn't allow that, not just for us, but for Rose. As much as I knew the rest of our family would care for her if we couldn't be there… she was still our daughter, and we would fight for her.

"You're not leaving me." I told my love, absolutely serious.

"Not by my own will." He murmured back with some effort.

"And not by anyone else's either." I retorted.

"We could take him to Asgard." Thor offered, unexpectedly.

"They would have healing stones there." Sif agreed, a bit too quickly for my tastes (especially considering her attitude towards my match up until then).

"Lady Eir would see to him." Thor insisted.

"You honestly believe I will let you take my match somewhere I cannot follow?" I asked in a disbelieving tone. "Especially knowing as I do the chances of you ever bringing him back to me? No! That's not happening."

"Will you truly let your husband die out of pride?" Sif challenged.

"Please…" I drawled. "Don't pretend like you actually care about what happens to him. I know you don't. If he weren't injured, right now you'd be trying to arrest him, again. You think this will actually turn the situation in your advantage." I gritted my teeth angrily. "Well, it won't."

"You heard what that man said, nothing you mortals can do will save him." Sif insisted.

"That's not what he said." I retorted. "He said human medicine wouldn't save him."

"Can you do it?" Sherlock asked softly, I hadn't noticed when he knelt beside John. "Can you use your magic that way?"

"Please!" Fandral snorted. "It doesn't work that way!"

"Says who? You?" I shook my head. "How would you even know, you're no sorcerer."

I could vaguely hear him trying to argue his point, but I wasn't paying any attention to him anymore. No, all my focus was on my love, on his injuries. Very slowly, careful not to allow the pain to take me over, I allowed myself to feel it, to feel the edges of his wound, through our bond, as if it were edge in my own flesh… and then, I pressed into that my own feelings: my love, my devotion, and above all: my fervent need to save him, somehow.

 _Heal him_ , I told the energy inside me, the core of blinding, pure, white light I could feel deep inside my soul. _Save him_.

I was barely aware of a sudden, all-encompassing warmth filling me, a moment before I lost consciousness completely.

 **xXx**

I woke up to the best sight I could have ever asked for: the emerald green eyes of te love of my existence, my dearest Maverick…

"Mo Anam Cara…" I mumbled quietly, voice raspy from lack of use.

"Mo Anam Cara…" He replied, the softest of smiles on his lips.

I couldn't help myself, I pressed a hand against his chest, right over his heart, the other was being held by one of his own, with his other arm wound around me; before tilting my head down and pressing my lips to his neck, right on his pulse-point. I could feel his quiet breath beside my ear before he kissed my air. All of them signs that he was right there, alive… that I'd managed to save him, somehow.

We didn't know how I'd done it, done something that was supposed to be impossible. Except, like Sherlock had said (I'd seen the memory in my match's head), we kind of specialized in doing the impossible, so it probably should have been no surprise; then John had added that that seem to be a Holmes specialty… one only needed to consider Sherlock's fake death and then what Skye had done to save him in that desert, and us. It apparently didn't matter whether you were Holmes by birth, adoption or marriage, just carrying the name made you prone to doing the impossible, somehow.

So, we didn't know how I'd healed him exactly, and while Thor insisted on finding out, talking to his mother and the Lady Eir (the goddess of healing), truth was I didn't really care. I only cared about one thing:

"Lets go home…" I told my match quietly.

I missed our home, not only in the house itself, London, the UK… I also missed my little Rose, and Mycroft, Anna, Mummy, Dad, Mrs. Hudson…

We'd been called for a case, which had turned into a battle, we'd won… now it was time to go back to our lives, to the lives we'd chosen.

"Yes." That was all my love said, it was really all that needed to be said.

 **xXx**

I don't know if anyone tried to stop of, I didn't ask, didn't care. Shortly after the helicarrier had settled on the North Atlantic, miles away from New York, a private yet landed and we got in fast, before anyone could try and stop us. Later on I learnt that Thor had talked to Loki earlier, tried to convince him to return to Asgard, my love refused. Though he did leave the option for Thor and his mother to visit us (Odin wasn't welcome anywhere near our family unless he changed completely from the mentality he'd had when I was sixteen, when he'd been so willing to destroy me, my mind, my life, simply because I 'knew too much'). I wasn't expecting any miracles.

Sharon and Skye went with us of course. Sharon would be working with MI6 full time. Both James and Alec had shown great interest in working with her (the latter actually seemed quite interested in more than just work, but still, he'd have to compete with her boyfriend, and not anyone could really compete with Captain America).

Our reunion with the rest of our family was quite sentimental (much as Mycroft might deny it). Rose of course went to hug each and every one of us, kissing our cheeks and expressing her happiness at our return (or arrival).

"Auntie Skye!" She cried out the moment she saw the brunette.

"Did she know already?" Sharon asked us, confused.

"Oh no," The hacker told her calmly, embracing Rose back and smiling. "It's not like that. She's been calling me auntie ever since we first met."

My love snorted in our minds and I almost chuckled myself. Of course, Skye might have known us already, but there were a few things we'd yet to share with her, like Rose's precognitive abilities… she'd realize the truth soon enough.

It took a little while, but by the next month we'd all gone back to our routines. Serrure was back at court, I kept going from one embassy to another (all in the UK, I really wasn't interested on going abroad, not without my family), Sherlock and John were back to solving cases, Sharon was making a name for herself with MI6, Mycroft and Anna of course did what they did best; while Skye was attending college and working part-time as a hacker (she was technically freelance, but she only really took jobs from people her brothers had vetted, the last thing they wanted was for her to be in the wrong side of the law).

We got the message on the first days of June (nearly a month after the battle in Australia), a request from Lady Frigg and her family (husband and son) to visit us, to meet Loki's family. After discussing it among ourselves we agreed, providing them with the coordinates of the place where we expected to meet. A certain estate in Wales…

 **xXx 3** **rd** **person POV xXx**

After the light and power from the Bifrost cleared, Thor turned to look at the humans waiting for them. He didn't recognize the several agents wandering around, trying to pretend they weren't very interested in the visitors. He did recognize the three standing by the edge of the mark the Bifrost had left, though: the Son of Coul, the Daughter of Watson (he knew that wasn't how names were pronounced by the humans, but it was a way to show his respect, by referring to them the way he would any citizen in Asgard) and the Daughter of Holmes. He knew the girl hadn't been born in that family but been adopted by them, following her choice to stand by them rather than SHIELD… and she looked so at peace with her choice… Thor couldn't help but wonder if he could have done something to make her brother feel and act like that, wonder how much he'd actually failed Loki.

"We should get on our way." Sharon announced. "It won't be a short drive."

"Why weren't we transported closer to where we're meant to go?" Odin asked, full of authority.

"Because my family doesn't trust either you or SHIELD not to do something underhanded." Skye said bluntly. "AC will be accompanying us at SHIELD's insistence, but even he doesn't know where we're going, and if I hadn't spoken for him, then the others wouldn't even have allowed that. So, either you accept this is the way they are, or you can go back to your world."

"We will do as you require, Miss…" Lady Frigg spoke before her husband could.

"Holmes, ma'am." Skye finished for her, bowing her head in respect. "Skye Holmes. I meant no insult towards you. Serrure… I mean Loki, holds you in great esteem, the others are really eager to meet you. Not so much about your husband."

"I understand." The Queen of Asgard nodded. "And I can see you're doing all this for your family's safety."

"It's kind of necessary." Skye admitted with a shrug. "Before, it was easier, because no one knew who Serrure and Arianna really were, but now… we all know SHIELD cannot really hurt them, but it's better to be prepared, just in case they try anything and you… well. Lets just say the first meeting any of us had with Asgardians didn't go well."

Of course both of Thor's parents knew what had happened, when they'd all first set eyes on each other in the helicarrier, the way the whole family, a family of humans (and a gifted girl or two) had closed ranks around the sorcerer, refusing to let anyone get close to him. And then when he'd been injured, how they'd seen right through Sif's offer to get Loki to Asgard; and then his young wife had gone and done what was believed to be impossible…

The van was SHIELD issue, and while Skye had made sure to disable anything that could be used to track them, she knew it wouldn't be the end of the world if they did. They were prepared for that eventuality; and while Phil Coulson wasn't purposefully paying attention to where they were going, those that knew him did not doubt that, if he really tried, he'd be able to lead someone to the place they were going.

Once in the estate, and it really was an estate, old and huge (though most of the manor itself had been rebuilt after a fire at some point); Sharon walked away without explanation (quite possibly to announce they had arrived) while Skye lead the rest of the ground to the solarium. They heard music, the moment the door was opened, a flute.

"Seems like the Nightingale is playing…" The hacker murmured, mostly to herself.

"Nightingale…?" Lady Frigg asked, very softly. "Is she really…?"

They were fully in the room then, and they could see her, Arianna Kinross-Holmes, Silbhé Salani, Nightingale… she was half-sitting, half-laying on a day-bed, she was playing her black-jade dizi (a Chinese transversal flute) a melody with no tune or rhyme, only a bunch of notes put together. Loki was beside her, shoulders almost touching, and he looked so much at peace, none of his Asgardian adopted family had ever seen him like that.

And then the Aesir royals got close enough to see the reason why the two adults weren't actually touching each other: there was a child, a ten-year old girl with loose curls of mahogany hair, laying in between them, one of Loki's hands was carding through her hair lovingly, while the child's body was curled into Nightingale's.

"You have a daughter?!" Thor blurted out before anyone could stop him.

The song stopped instantly as Nightingale put down the dizi. Loki (whose eyes had actually been closed as he enjoyed the peaceful moment), threw a rather cold look at the blonde prince for interrupting their peace and quiet (never mind that the others were invited and expected). The little girl was the only one who didn't look upset or even surprised at all. She just pressed a quick kiss to each of her parents before hurrying to her feet before the three Aesir.

"I am Rose Alfdis Kinross-Holmes Salani-Hvedrungr." She announced, seemingly taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in enlisting all her names. "And those are my Mama and Papa."

"Hello, dear child…" Frigg greeted her, getting on one knee to be more her height.

"Hello grandma." Rose replied, giving the queen a quick kiss on the cheek.

"How does… how does she know that?" Thor inquired.

"She has the Sight." Frigg murmured for all answer.

"Yes, she does." Nightingale agreed. "She's had it since she was five."

"How…?" They were all more than a little flabbergasted.

The question could have been taken so many ways. How could she do that? How did she handle it? How hadn't she gone crazy? How were they handling it? How…?

"It's her gift." Nightingale said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If she weren't capable of handling it, she wouldn't have it. At first it was harder but nowadays she can tell when she sees True Things, and she shares them with us. She knows she can tell us anything and we'll try to make things better."

And she had helped them, the whole family, so many times… neither of them wanted to even contemplate how the 'Fall' would have gone if it hadn't been for her.

"You hid her from SHIELD." It was the first time Phil spoke since his arrival, and it probably shouldn't have been surprising that he chose to focus on that.

"If something had happened to us, none of you would have ever known she so much as existed." Loki said for all answer.

"My daughter is not a weapon, or a name to be added to your Index, or a tool to be bartered with." Nightingale declared, probably more coldly than entirely necessary. "You can tell that to Fury if he ever gets ideas into his head."

"If Nick ever finds about the little one's existence, it will not be from me Mrs. Holmes." Phil assured her with the utmost sincerity.

There was a moment of silence, and then Nightingale nodded.

"Call me Arianna." She told the agent. "Or even Nightingale. I haven't been Silbhé for almost half my life and the name just doesn't feel right anymore… and Mrs. Holmes is Mummy… and don't even think about calling me by my title!"

Everyone chuckled at that. It was well known just how much Arianna did not like the idea of titles, or the people who were always using them; especially because those tended to be the same people that were so full of themselves they'd looked down on her until the moment they heard her full name…

"Time to meet the rest of the family." Skye announced right about then.

They were all on the backyard (if the huge mix of garden, yard and even a piece of forest could be referred to by that name); Mr. and Mrs. Holmes (Mummy and Dad), Mycroft, Anna, Sherlock, John, Sharon, even Mrs. Hudson.

It wasn't going to be easy, and they all knew it, trying to get two so strong families to mix. Lady Frigg was likely to feel at least a bit upset, hearing her youngest son calling another woman Mummy, and while the Allfather acted like he didn't care, there was at least one who could see through his façade. Then there was the other side, while all the Holmeses were more than eager to meet Lady Frigg, and at least willing to try with Thor; everyone could see there were no such overtures being offered to Odin. The whole family knew quite well how much the King had hurt his son, as well as what his plans had been for the young Arianna, and those were things they were not likely to forgive any time soon. Also, there was little the Allfather could do. It was like John had told the asgardians that day in the helicarrier, their world, their rules. At least they were all willing to give one more chance (that was more than most Holmeses would have been willing to in times past), that was enough.

Thor and his parents learnt a lot that afternoon. They learnt that none from the family actually lived there. They lived in different houses, most of them in London, but they'd chosen to meet there so they wouldn't be so easily found (London might not be very big, but so many people lived there it would take a great effort to find even one of them). The estate was in fact the Salani estate. Since Fury had forced Arianna to reveal herself, she'd decided to go through with it all and reclaim her properties and other various assets. Her aunt's Will had her as only heir (apparently, despite rumors, Kathryn had never doubted that her niece was alive and would return one day).

By the end of the visit, while they weren't all friends, at least the tension was much lessened and there was a willingness, on both sides, to keep trying. Loki wouldn't go back to Asgard any time soon, and it didn't look like the Allfather was quite ready to recognize Nightingale as one of them and grant her and little Rose immortality, but at least things were better than they'd been since Loki's disappearance (and even before then).

There was one quite memorable moment in the afternoon though, when Rose walked away from her parents and approached, of all people, Phil Coulson.

"Need to talk to you." She said, in a voice that sounded a tad too serious to belong to a child.

Feeling more than a little strange, Phil followed Rose to a bench on one side. He didn't miss the fact that every single Holmes present was aware of exactly where he was, they all took great care of the youngest member of their family (though she wouldn't be so for much longer, as Anna would soon be announcing she was pregnant).

"What is it you need to tell me?" He asked once they were both seated.

In any other circumstances he'd have found it odd, to talk to a ten-year-old girl in the same way he would an adult, but he'd noticed everyone doing exactly that, and aside from loving pet-names and the way she referred to each member of her family, Rose returned the gesture.

"She's waiting for you." She announced without further ado.

"Excuse me… what?" Phil so hadn't seen that one coming. "She who?"

"Your match." Rose added, and he could almost hear the 'silly' at the end.

"Audrey is long since married." Phil blurted out, thinking of his old girlfriend. "She doesn't even know I'm alive. I had to fake my death years ago and never told her the truth."

"Not the Cellist, the Hacker." Rose replied, and when seeing Phil's eyes stray to Skye she shook her head almost wildly. "No, not her. The Hacker, the TaserQueen, the friend, the sister, the assistant, the partner, the…" She broke off before she could say too much. "She's your match, and she's lost. She's been waiting for you for so long… and so have you."

"I don't understand." Phil admitted.

"Things happened years ago, that should not have." Rose explained, very quietly. "And for that, things have not happened, that should. She should be here, she's family, as are you…"

"Me…?" That one sounded even more unbelievable.

"Yes!" Rose seemed to be getting really upset. "You're supposed to be a match, and you're supposed to be family, My family. But she's not here, and you don't see it! You don't know, either of you."

"But you do." He realized. "You know, you've seen it."

"Yes." Rose nodded. "She thinks she doesn't belong anywhere, that no place, no person is right for her. But that's because you haven't found each other. You need to find her, and bring her here. You're our family…"

"How do I find her?" Phil knew it was absolutely ludicrous. The idea that he had a soulmate and had to find her, but still.

"You open your eyes." She said simply. "The stars will send her to you, like they sent Papa to my Mama, and Uncle John to Uncle Sher, and Auntie Anna to Uncle Myc. You will find your way to each other, you just need to keep your eyes open."

It really was that simple, all he needed to do was be ready for it. To move on from the memory of Audrey Rush (nee Nathan) and what once had been and be ready for the woman who was truly meant for him… Rose chuckled to herself. Yes, her family would be complete, she would make sure of it.

* * *

This fic was hard, there was so much I wanted to do and yet had no idea how to. I hope you like how things came out in the end. Regarding the last scene, I was referring to future PhilDarcy. Of course, because the mess in New Mexico never happened, those two did not meet at that point. Darcy finished her internship and then went to graduate college and move one, however... the two of them are a match, they belong together, which means that sooner or later they will be... Rose would just prefer it be sooner rather than later.

I still haven't made up my mind on who will be Skye's match in this verse, suggestions are welcomed.

Next in the list are: three, possibly four more AUs, depend on how my muse gets. I'll be getting more in how some things might have changed, depending on other people's decisions, rather than just Loki's and Nightingale's, it's giving me more options.

Also, I'm warning you there's a chance I might be late. A reader recommended me a few contests over at Inkitt and I'll need to revise the fic I'll be posting. Which will be either Nightingale or Lokidottir (you're welcome to suggest on that one too). Anyway, I will try to begin posting the next AU in four weeks, but no guarantees.

Please don't forget to comment, I would really love to know what you all think about my works. And I would especially like to know if you think Sherlock should become an official part of this verse or not (I'm still thinking about that).


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